


He's Holmes, I'm Watson

by mvernet



Series: Blue Steel & Blue Sky [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Starsky & Hutch
Genre: AU, Blatant Misuse of Arthur Conan Doyle's Wonderful Stories, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Episode Silence, Explicit Language, Fantasy, Holmes & Watson on the Stage, M/M, Mention of John Watson - Freeform, Mention of Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Not a Crossover, Sherlockians, Starsky & Hutch - Freeform, William Gillette Play, lovelovelove, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch enter the eccentric underworld of Sherlockians. The Great Game turns deadly as our favorite Bay City  Detectives begin their own Adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who's Sherlock Holmes?

**Author's Note:**

> Although this was meant for the Starsky & Hutch fandom. I hoped my Sherlockian friends might enjoy it as well! If you like S&H come visit me at Live Journal.  
> mvernet.livejounal.com

The only traces of last night's rain were the small puddles nestled in the broken pavement of Bay City's less than perfect infrastructure. Hutch pulled up to Starsky's place in his tank of a Ford. He turned towards the backseat to check on his precious cargo and opened the back window a crack. He carefully climbed out the passenger side so that he didn't set off his loud annoying horn. Hutch stretched, lifting his arms above his head as if greeting the sun. "Yeah. It's gonna be a good morning." he said to the sky.

Starsky had Hutch's coffee poured when he walked through the door. 

"Mornin' Partner!" Starsky pushed the hot mug of coffee into Hutch's hand.

Hutch smiled. "Looks like it's a beautiful day out there, Steel. Thanks for the coffee."

Hutch watched Starsky finish chewing whatever unhealthy thing had made up his breakfast. Starsky washed it down with a swig of coffee. He moved into Hutch's personal space and placed a mug warmed hand on his cheek. Hutch leaned into a coffee flavored kiss. 

Starsky sighed. "I missed you last night, Sky, durin' that storm. Had no blue sky to make the sun shine. I felt like a kid scared of thunder. Only I wasn't scared of howlin' wind. I was lonely for my White Knight, keepin' me all warm and safe. Guardin' me in my sleep. I hate havin' to be apart, sleepin' alone. I know it's what we agreed on, sleepin' apart a few nights durin' the week but..." 

"I know, Steel. I feel the same. I want to be around you all the time. The things you say to me, it's like poetry. I hate missing even one word."

Starsky pulled away with a laugh "Poetry, huh? You are one lovesick pup, Baby. We better get to work 'cause I don't think Dobey's gonna be reciting sonnets to us if we're late again."

"Don't worry. I've got an errand to run this morning. Dobey already knows we're going to be late." Hutch took a big gulp of coffee and looked at Starsky over the rim of his mug. 

"Uh, oh! You've got that diabolical look on your face. What's this errand goin' to cost me in pain, heartache, and cash?"

"Just an errand, Partner. Won't take long." Hutch finished his coffee and put his mug in the sink next to Starsky's. He headed for the door. Starsky grabbed his jacket and adjusted his Beretta.

"Why do I get the feelin' somebody's gonna get burned?" Starsky said to his empty apartment.

.oOOo.

Hutch headed out. Starsky opened his window, scowling at the LTD, and trying to figure out why they had to use Hutch's car for the errand. 

"Why don't ya just tell me Hutch? Where we goin'?" Starsky whined.

Hutch sighed. "Okay, okay. We're going to Dobey's house. I...uh... I'm doing an errand for Edith, sort of."

"Hutch! Why do you keep things from me? Why can't you just communicate? Goin' to Dobey's to...fill in the blank. Just tell me, Partner!" Hutch smirked, and shrugged his shoulders.

Starsky turned in his seat to give Hutch a smack on the head when he heard a sound coming from the back seat.

"What the hell is that squeaky sound? What's wrong with this heap now?" Starsky looked in the back seat. Along with the usual garbage there were some full grocery bags and a box loosely covered with a towel. Starsky pulled at the towel and was amazed to see two little kittens sleeping in a green plastic cat carrier. The kittens opened their eyes and blinked at Starsky. Starsky opened his eyes wide and blinked at Hutch.

"Why are there cats in your car, Blondie?" Starsky tried to sound calm.

Hutch smiled and glanced at his Partner. "Those are not just cats. That's Starsky & Hutch."

"Larry's cats?" asked Starsky. Hutch nodded.

"Larry's new landlord is a really nice guy. Knows sign language. He told Larry he could keep the mother cat and one kitten. He even said he'd pay to take them to the pound and get them shots and stuff. But he wouldn't let Larry keep Starsky & Hutch. Larry had the landlord call me to see if we wanted them."

"Hutch! You're not takin' them to the pound are you?" Starsky pressed a finger into the screen of the carrier and little Starsky licked it.

"Nonononono! I'm going to find them a good home. But since we can't keep them at our places, I've hired two kitten sitters." Hutch smiled.

"Who? Hutch? You look evil again." said Starsky with a lifted eyebrow.

"Cal and Rosie Dobey will be kitten sitting for me until I find little Starsky and little Hutch a good home." Hutch glanced at Starsky and smirked again.

"Oh, Hutch. I don't know. Rosie's gonna fall in love with these cats. It'll break her heart to let them go..."

A grin started to grow on Starsky's face. "You'd have to have a heart of stone to take these kittens away from that little girl. Hutch, I'm glad you're on my side, you evil genius."

Hutch laughed. "Figured it out, huh? I called Edith and asked her if she could adopt the cats. Turns out she had been wanting the kids to have a pet. Cal's been asking for a kitten and Rosie just loves cats. But Dobey said no. Something about the kids being too young to be responsible and not wanting Edith to have more work. Anyway Cal got so excited about Starsky and Hutch he went to the library and started to read about cat care. Edith thinks he may even get interested in becoming a Vet. She is all for it and she's pretty sure Dobey will come around. We all know his heart is not made of stone. Rosie will show Big Daddy those little pouty lips and tear filled eyes and say 'Please don't take Starsky & Hutch away' and he'll turn into jelly."

Starsky felt a laugh start deep in his belly. "Hutch! This is tremendous! The best part is that Dobey will have Starsky & Hutch with him all the time! I can hear him now. 'Hutch! Get down off the counter! Hutch! Don't use my favorite chair as a scratching post!'" Starsky was laughing so hard he put a hand to his eyes to wipe the tears away.

"You got it, Starsk!" Hutch joined in. "Starsky! Use the litter box! Starsky! Did you leave a hairball in my dress shoe? Damn you, Starsky!" Starsky threw an arm across the back seat and squeezed Hutch's shoulder.

"You are evil, Hutch. But I love ya just the same! Is all this stuff in the back for the kittens?"

"Yeah. I didn't want Edith to have any expenses, so I got her everything she might need. I even dropped by the Vet and pre-paid for shots and basic exams. The Vet's assistant was real nice. Gave me a coupon, made my day." Hutch sighed wistfully.

Starsky suddenly came to attention. He didn't like somebody other than him making Hutch's day.

"What's so great about a coupon?" Starsky tried not to show his jealousy.

Hutch reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. He held it up so Starsky could see it. He read:

Bay City Veterinarian Association  
Coupon for Free Neutering for  
\---STARSKY---

"Think I'll keep this, might come in handy someday." Hutch grinned. Starsky made a grab for the coupon, but Hutch was too fast. Hutch returned it safely to his pocket.

"You're gonna show that coupon to everyone with eyes aren't you?" asked Starsky. Hutch nodded and started to laugh evilly.

Starsky shook his head. "Like I said, Hutchinson. Diabolical."

.oOOo.

It was almost ten o'clock when Starsky & Hutch strutted down the hallway on their way to the squad room.

"Hey, Hutch! Remember that fake priest who tried to get Larry in trouble?" asked Starsky.

"Of course I do. I won't ever forget that creep. Why?" asked Hutch.

"Remember he called us Holmes & Watson?"

"Yeah." Hutch stopped walking and faced Starsky, a puzzled look on his face.

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?"

"What?" Hutch had heard him but didn't understand the question.

"Me or you? When he said it. Did you think you were Holmes or me?"

"Starsk, I thought he was an annoying jerk who probably never even read the canon." Hutch quickly answered.

"Canon? What canon? Oh, like a church canon? Like rules? Fake priest. Hey! That was pretty smart of you. Maybe you are Holmes." Starsky smiled.

"The Sherlock Holmes canon, Starsk. Four novels and 56 stories. You just don't want to be Watson. You think he's a bumbling fool, right? Well, I'd love to be Watson. He loved and protected Sherlock, he was a writer and a damn fine Doctor. He was a hero. A wounded soldier, with pride and dignity. And he was a tall good looking, athletic man with a great mustache. You can be Holmes. I'll be Watson. Gladly." Hutch realized he had said too much. He had even started pointing his finger. Hutch had let his geek flag fly. He cringed and started to blush.

"Wow, you really know a lot about Watson. Ex-soldier, huh? Have you read all those stories?" Starsky could tell Hutch was uncomfortable. He wondered why Hutch never told him he liked Sherlock Holmes.

Hutch hung his head. "Yeah, Starsk. I've read them all quite a few times."

"Why don't I know this, Hutch? Such a simple thing. You can't say to me that you like Sherlock Holmes? You know I like Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe stories. You even gave me that nice leather bound book of his early stuff. This is what I mean Hutch. You never tell me things. Things about yourself. I should know what you have a passion for. What else are you keepin' from me? Don't you trust me?"

Hutch looked up, in his eyes a storm was raging, almost out of control. Starsky took a step back.

"Don't. D...Don't ever s...say I don't trust you!" Hutch lowered his voice till it was a harsh whisper. "Y...You're the only one...I...trust with everything even... my..." Hutch touched his breast above where his heart was beating frantically.

"Hutch... It's okay, Buddy." Starsky forgot all anger when he saw Hutch's reaction. He tried to lighten the scene. "You can be Holmes. I'll be Watson."

Hutch closed his eyes and gave a tight smile.

Dobey's voice echoed down the hall. "Starsky! Hutchinson! Quit wasting the taxpayer's money and get your carcasses in here!"

Starsky touched Hutch's arm and squeezed. "Me and Thee, Babe. Let's go."

.oOOo.

Dobey was at his desk peering into a cardboard box. Starsky, a look of disgust on his face was lightly poking the contents of the box with the eraser end of a pencil. Hutch was sitting forward in a chair, arms resting on his knees, head low, occasionally lifting his eyes as Dobey and Starsky talked.

"Salt?" Starsky asked for confirmation.

"Yes." Dobey nodded.

"Two human ears in a cardboard box of Kosher salt. Sent to you, Cap?"

"To Homicide. Addressed to Detective Sigerson. There isn't any Detective Sigerson in the building or even in the State of California."

"You think it's a message? Like we stepped on someone's turf?"

"We don't know of any murder victims with missing ears. There aren't any Officers unaccounted for. There aren't any Detectives undercover right now. If it's a message, we have no idea what the message is!" Dobey leaned back in frustration, and addressed Hutch.

"Hutch, you haven't said anything. What's on your mind?" Dobey was concerned. Hutch was pale and his hands were trembling slightly. 

Hutch didn't answer immediately. He looked at Starsky and licked his lips nervously.

"Partner? You good?" Starsky asked.

Hutch cleared his throat. "Starsk? The ears. Is one smaller than the other, like a man's ear and a woman's ear?"

"Yeah! How'd you..."

"And Starsk? Are the ears pierced, like for an earring? Does the brown paper around the box smell of coffee? Was it tied up with tarred string in a fancy knot?"

Starsky checked everything out and nodded in the affirmative. He looked at Dobey.

"Hutch?" Dobey said. "You never looked at the box, how on earth did you know..."

Hutch stood quickly and started to pace.

"Hutch?" Starsky's tone stopped Hutch's frantic steps.

"I'm Detective Sigerson." Hutch announced. Starsky dropped his pencil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first season is my favorite. (Although I have a love & hate relationship with my favorite episode, Black & Blue.) In Blue Steel & Blue Sky I get to keep my version of the guys in pre- bad choices in women mode. 
> 
> Really, in season one you can see how hard the actors are working to make something special of the show. And, Jeez! The way they look! I'm surprised the cameras didn't melt when they did close ups of the two of them looking at each other.
> 
> LoVeLoVeLoVe---M.


	2. The Adventure Of The Cardboard Box

Hutch looked at Dobey and Starsky. He sat down and leaned back pushing his long legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. He folded his hands on his lap. His blue eyes taking in his riveted audience.

"I'm a Sherlockian. Have been since I was nine. Officially since college. Detective K. Sigerson, Sherlockian." Hutch cringed at the blank stares on Dobey and Starsky's faces.

"Okay. Let me start again. If you really love Sherlock Holmes, you can join a group of like minded individuals. The first and most famous group is The Baker Street Irregulars in London. But there are many, many scion groups. Local small groups. I belong to The Hounds of Duluth. They get together and discuss the canon, all of the 60 stories. It's just for fun. As a matter of fact in the group you are encouraged to act as if Sherlock and Watson are real. It's called The Great Game. People write articles, try to answer questions about Sherlock, like where was he born, where did he go to college. There's no real answer so researching the stories and looking for clues can be really exciting and controversial sometimes. When you get into it you eventually become a Sherlockian. An expert of sorts on all things Sherlock."

The blank stares had turned into amused and puzzled smirks. Hutch sighed and continued.

"You can pick a Sherlockian name for yourself. To use as a pen name if you write. Mine was K. Sigerson. Sigerson was an alias Sherlock used. When I became a Detective in real life I added Detective to my Sherlockian name. I... I'm a little famous in Sherlockian circles. I've written about a dozen articles for the Baker Street Gazetteer. Wrote a couple of books of short pastiches. I... I used some of our real cases for inspiration." Hutch turned a bright red and hung his head but continued.

"I published a book recently. 'The Unsolved Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes.' It was a little... controversial. Might have drawn some unwanted attention. I never used my real name. No one knows who I really am. No one." Hutch looked at Starsky, who was shaking his head.

"What's this got to do with these ears, Hutch?" asked Dobey.

"It's from a Sherlock Holmes story. 'The Adventure of the Cardboard Box.' And unless the ears came from two cadavers at a medical facility, we should be looking for drowning victims. The person who sent me these ears has already diverted from the story. So they are alluding to the story, not actually following the story line." Hutch leaned forward and rubbed his brow. He could feel a headache starting.

Strasky, arms folded, took his turn pacing the well worn path in front of Dobey's desk.

"So." Starsky started. "Some Sherlock Holmes nutcase knows who Hutch is even though we now learn he has an alias. This nutcase knows where Hutch works and he wants the great Sherlockian author, Detective Sigerson's attention. And he sure got it. By killin' two people and removin' their ears." Starsky stood before Dobey's desk.

"Captain, this nutcase is after Hutch. I think we should take him into protective custody till I find this sicko."

Hutch sprang to his feet. "What? No! Starsk! Are you crazy? Take me off this case? It's my case! Obviously this sicko wants to get to me! I will not hide, and I certainly won't let you go after a psycho murderer without your partner!"

Starsky turned on Hutch."You got no say! You obviously are not capable of lookin' out for your own welfare, because secrets kept from your partner are secrets that will make you dead!"

"ENOUGH!" Dobey yelled. "Hutch, I need your expertise on this case. Starsky, your job is to keep your partner alive. You stick to him like glue. Don't let him out of your sight for a second. I expect you to use all your professional knowledge and skills to keep him safe. He's your only responsibility. Hear me?"

"I hear ya, Cap. Nothin's gonna happen to Hutch on my watch."

.oOOo.

Starsky & Hutch spent the rest of the day on their phones searching for drowning victims in other precincts and writing up overdue reports. Starsky wasn't talking to Hutch, except to ask him where he thought he was going when Hutch needed to use the bathroom. Starsky formally checked out the bathroom, gun in hand. And stationed himself outside the door at full attention. Hutch safely used the facilities and smiled at Starsky's theatrics when he was done.

"Starsk..." Hutch said softly.

"Save it Hutchinson. I'll protect your ass. But I won't take your bullshit."

When it was time to go home, Starsky pushed Hutch into the passenger seat of the LTD. "I'm in charge of you. I drive." Starsky said gruffly.

After ten minutes of silence on the road, Hutch said, "I wanted to stop and get some..."

"No." said Starsky.

"But, Starsk, I need..."

"No." said Starsky.

"Can we go to my place? I gotta..."

"No." said Starsky.

"Look I'm sorry..."

"Shut it, Hutchinson." said Starsky.

Hutch folded his arms and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

When they arrived at Starsky's apartment. Starsky made Hutch wait for him to open the passenger side door so that Hutch would be covered by Starsky at all times. They made to the apartment door without incident. Starsky entered first and checked all the rooms. He walked quickly back to the front door and pulled Hutch in. Before Hutch knew what hit him Starsky had him pinned to the wall, hands behind his back. Starsky's left arm pushed against Hutch's throat just enough to immobilize him.

"Starsk! What the Hell!"

"Listen up, Sky! No more secrets from me! You are goin' to tell me everythin' you ever did till I met your sorry ass at the academy and I made a policeman out of you!"

"You made a policema..." Hutch started to choke on his words. Then hot pressure was on his lips. The kiss was possessive.

Starsky breathed in his ear. "Do you know what it's like for me to know someone's got it in for you? Do you know how I feel when you are in danger? You're my life, Hutch. I need to protect you to keep my sanity. I need to know all about you to keep you safe from all those crazies out there. You're my heart, Sky. Don't you know I would die for you? Don't you know your secrets are safe with me?" Starsky abruptly pushed away and Hutch lost his balance and fell to the floor, breathing hard.

"Starsk, I'm sorry. I do keep secrets. I... I always have... since I...I was a kid... I...always had too... could never tell anyone. Secrets kept me safe..."

Starsky looked down at his Hutch. Starsky could tell Hutch was far in the past. Starsky thought hard, "What past secrets could an angelic boy like Hutch have?" Then it hit him. Starsky's blood ran cold. He dropped to the floor and wrapped his arms around Hutch.

"Your Dad? The Preacher? He hurt you?" Starsky said softly.

Hutch nodded. "For my own good, he always said... beat the demons out of me... exorcisms... prayers and beatings... hurt so much." Hutch held on to Starsky's arm. "My Father and Mother were missionaries. They traveled when they first married. I was born in Germany. Th...They were helping refugees. My first words were in German. Father made me speak English. I developed a stutter..." Hutch looked into Starsky's empathetic eyes.

"Starsk? Th...This is real hard." Starsky pressed a kiss against Hutch's hair.

"I know, Sky. It's just me. Only makes me love you more."

Hutch let that sink in. It gave him a warm feeling where he kept his secrets. The warmth grew.

"My Mother died when I was eight. My Father and I moved to Duluth. My Parent's folks were from Minnesota. Then the beatings started..."

Starsky held Hutch close. He gently rocked him as he caressed his hair.

"Baby." Starsky whispered. "You know he was wrong. You know he abused you. If I was a cop back then I woulda took you away from him, locked him up."

"The cop part of me knows he was abusive. But the rest of me still feels like I'm evil. That everything I love is destroyed and that I don't deserve to be loved. When my Mother died, my Father was so full of hate. I reminded him of all he lost. I think he blamed me. I was evil in his eyes."

"Hutch! Look at me! You are so good. You do so much good. You are beautiful. Inside and out. I love you, Sky. You deserve all my love and so much more."

"Starsk... I'm so sorry I keep things from you... I...I'll try to do better..."

Starsky went back to rocking Hutch. "You're doin' great. It's enough that you trust me, Hutch. I understand now. I wanna help you heal. Help you know that you're an angel sent to earth. Just good through and through."

Hutch buried his head in Starsky's chest and the tears came. The tears of a little boy who finally found the unconditional love he craved. He finally found it in Starsky's arms.

Starsky held on and cried tears of his own. He felt such a surge of love for his Partner. He knew with certainty that this was the love of his life. He couldn't live without him.

The tears slowed. Hutch's voice was just above a whisper.

"I...I loved to read. When the beatings were real bad, I'd hide in the barn and read. I hid books in there. A teacher gave me 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' when I was nine. It was the most wonderful book I ever read. I didn't know it was a selection of stories for kids. It ended when Sherlock died. I thought he died. That Moriarty pushed him off the cliff at the Reichenbach Falls. I was so sad, Starsk."

"But, Sherlock Holmes didn't die, did he? You said there were 60 stories..."

"No! Starsk! He didn't die!" Hutch cried. Starsky smiled, he saw the nine year old in Hutch's enthusiastic eyes. "That's what saved me, Starsk! He survived, and I knew I would survive. I devoured the rest of the stories and started to make up my own. When my Father screamed at me and beat me, my Father would become Moriarty. I'd become Sherlock, and Watson would take care of me after... that was my secret life."

Starsky smiled. "I'm so glad you had that."

"I learned a lot from Sherlock. I started to observe my Father. Looked for clues and signs that he was angry. Kept everything I did a secret. I lived two lives by the age of ten. Ken Hutchinson and Ken Sigerson. I learned to run away and hide. I remember the day I was finally big and strong enough to take the belt out of my Father's hands. I looked him in the eyes. I saw I had won. I had survived. I was Thirteen."

Starsky pulled Hutch close again. He could feel Hutch relax into the embrace.

"I know those two guys. Hutch the bad ass cop and Hutch the angel. I like knowin' where they came from. Even if it breaks my heart to think of why you created them. I love them both. They make up one perfect Hutch. Anything else you want to tell me, Sky?" asked Starsky.

"Not much left to tell." Hutch sighed. "I did well in school. Joined any activity that would keep me away from home. Ran away to the Rodeo in the Summers. My Father continued to disapprove of all I did, of what I was. He remarried, she was okay, but cold. Really didn't want me around. I kept all my secrets from her too. When I decided to become a cop. My Father told me if I ever took a life, he would consider me dead. Well, you know. I did take a life to save you, Starsk. To me, my Father died that day. I didn't mourn. I had my Starsky." Hutch smiled.

Starsky started to get up. "Come on, Baby. After all that emotional stuff, you're weak as a kitten. I'm gonna tuck you into the couch and spoil ya. You need to eat or you're gonna crash. Hey! The pizza place has salads now. Gonna get you a big Greek salad and me a triple meat pizza. I gotta beer in the fridge with your name on it."

Starsky pulled Hutch to a standing position. He was feeling shaky and a little dizzy. Hutch leaned into Starsky. Starsky maneuvered him to the couch and plopped him down. Starsky took off Hutch's shoes and placed his feet on the coffee table. He grabbed an afghan and covered him. Starsky rubbed Hutch's covered feet eliciting a "Ummmmm" from his Partner.

A sudden thought put a frown on Starsky's face.

"Hutch. The thing we got goin', you know I love it. You know I love you, so much." Hutch opened his eyes and pierced Starsky's heart with a look. Starsky winced, but continued. "It's a secret. We can't tell anyone, or all hell will break loose. I got you in a position where you need to live two lives again. Sky, I feel bad about that. Maybe we should quit. Move to San Francisco or New York."

Hutch smiled. "It's okay, Steel. We don't have it all worked out yet. Hell, we don't know what we're doing! We lost our crystal ball, can't tell what the future holds. I'm happy, Steel. Don't have one problem with us. There's a big difference between hiding a dark secret and sharing a secret with someone you love. I don't mind keeping our secret safe. I'm real good at it."

Starsky shook his head slowly. He thought, "That don't sit right with me. I'm so proud of Hutch. Proud he loves me. Well, I got me a Hutch to take care of tonight. Gonna make him so lost in lovin' he won't remember the past or think about the future."

Starsky patted Hutch's feet and walked off to order the pizza & salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. My name is M. Vernet and I am a Sherlockian.
> 
> Well, that's my Sherlockian name anyway. Named after Sherlock's maternal Grandmother. I really have been a Sherlockian since I was nine. I belong to The Hounds Of The Internet and two other scion groups. I have written "serious" articles that to my surprise, were well received, and have the honor of corresponding with some the most famous Sherlockians of our time. A wonderful, warm, caring, and intelligent group, those crazy Sherlockians.
> 
> LoVeLoVeLoVe---M.


	3. The Adventure Of The Speckled Band

Starsky sat at his desk perched on top of his chair. His blue sneaker-clad feet tapping a jazzy rhythm on the chair seat. He alternated reading the paper with reading the forensic report on the cardboard box with ears. The report offered no clues to the identity of the sender. It was slow going because his eyes wanted to linger on his beautiful blond Partner across the desk from him.

A well fed and well loved Hutch sat at his desk in the traditional way. One arm rested on the desk holding a worn paperback copy of "The Complete Sherlock Holmes." The other hand was softly stroking his forehead and neck in between turning pages. As he turned each page he smoothed it, leaving a lingering touch like a caress on the beloved words. His eyes were far away and full of gaslight, fog and innocence. 

Starsky was fascinated. He always liked watching Hutch read. Liked distracting him from reading even more. But now he noticed how content Hutch looked. Safe and happy in a Victorian world a hundred years in the past. His heart ached with love for the man lost in the pages of a book. Starsky had a odd yearning to enter that long ago world and be Watson to Hutch's Holmes.

Starsky smiled. "Wouldn't be that much different." he thought.

Starsky went back to reading his paper. An ad in the entertainment section caught his eye.

"Hutch!"

"What, Starsk?"

Starsky ruffled his paper.

"Says here The Royal Shakespeare Theater is putting on the play 'Sherlock Holmes' at that old theater on Ocean, you know the one that plays movies with sub-titles sometimes. That place has great popcorn."

"Is it the William Gillette play? A revival of the original play?"

"Yeah. Says here it originally premiered in 1899. And it's an authentic reproduction. Wanna go? Want I should get tickets?" asked Starsky.

"Wow, Starsk! I've always wanted to see that play! I'd love to go. You're going to let me be in a public place like that?" Hutch smirked.

"I'll be right by your side the whole time. Anyways, I wanna catch the creep who's after ya. What better place to check out geeky Sherlockians than a moldy oldy Sherlock Holmes play. Guaranteed I'll be the coolest person there. Good for my ego."

"Yeah, like you need an ego boost." Hutch smiled and went back to his book.

Starsky put down the paper and picked up the forensics report. He read it through one more time and threw it on the desk with a loud sigh. He had a gut feeling the crazy was playing with Hutch. He didn't like it one bit.

Hutch looked up. "What's wrong, Starsk?"

"Nothing. Just wondering." he covered. "You said your last book of pasties... paster..."

"Pastiches, Starsk. Stories based on another author's works. I use the world created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and try to write like he might have. It brings enjoyment to fans who wish the magic would never stop." Hutch explained.

"Oh. That's cool. But you said you wrote something controversial. What did you write about?"

Hutch put his book down. He leaned towards Starsky.

"I wrote that Sherlock was gay." said Hutch quietly.

"You... WHAT?" cried Starsky.

Hutch looked around. But no one looked their way.

"Starsky, not so loud! I wrote an article a few years ago showing instances in the canon that indicated that Sherlock was a gay man. That plus Sir Arthur's tendency to support the underdog, right injustices, fight bigotry, and his open friendship with Oscar Wilde. I made a pretty good case for Sherlock being gay."

"Jeez, Hutch. You mean you wrote stories where Holmes & Watson were doin' it?" Starsky's eyes went wide.

"No! Well, yes... I... insinuated they did it. I had Sherlock admit he was gay to Watson. I had them declare their love for each other. Romanticized it. I didn't actually peep in the keyhole of their bedroom and jot down notes on performance. I'm a classy writer." Hutch lifted an eyebrow.

Starsky snorted. "Or you're just too chicken-shy and hung up to write the sexy stuff! I don't know, Hutch. I would love to read the details. Hot, Victorian forbidden sex. Leather boots and dark cloaks. All those clothes without zippers." Starsky leaned across the desk and whispered. "Take me an hour just to undress you!"

"Starsky! Shut the fuck up, you Moron!" said Hutch with an embarrassed laugh.

"Hey! You're the one writing about Gay Detectives! Not too smart a move, Hutchinson! Now you probably got a homophobic crazy Sherlockian wantin' a piece of ya."

"Sigerson wrote it! I thought it was safe. I'd never endanger you, Starsk. What bothers me is how the hell this crazy found me. I've never used my real name on anything Sherlockian. I thought it was a secret. I feel like a fool now. I... I'm sorry..."

"I know, Hutch. It's okay. We'll find him." Starsky snapped his fingers. "Hey! Do you make any money from your writing?"

"A little. Most of it I do for free. My first book made me about a five hundred dollars in royalties over two years. Hardly pays for a new typewriter ribbon."

"Who are the checks made out to?" asked Starsky.

Hutch stood up. "Shit! Starsky! That's it! My Publisher's secretary has my real name on file for writing checks! I gave it to her years ago. I forgot all about it. It's not public knowledge but still..."

"Someone determined to know could find out." Starsky said.

Hutch looked Starsky in the eye. "I fucked up... "

Their conversation was interrupted when Don, the skinny kid from the mail room placed a small package on Hutch's desk.

Dobey said to give anything sent to this Sigerson dude to you guys. We ran it through a metal detector. It's clean, and real light. Is it true the last package had ears in it? That is soooo gross." Don waited, an expectant look on his face.

Starsky & Hutch looked up from the package.

"Bye, Don." said Hutch.

"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out, Kid." said Starsky.

"This job sucks! Nothing exciting ever happens!" Don exited mumbling.

Hutch reached for the package. Starsky slapped his hand away.

"I'm in charge of you. You keep forgettin' that fact. I open it."

Starsky picked up the box. It was very light. He looked at it from all angles. This box was a standard issue post office box. The kind you can pick up at any post office. It was taped with post office official package tape. Starsky pulled off the tape and looked inside. He glanced at Hutch's wide staring eyes and pulled out a red cord. There was nothing else in the box. Hutch took it and examined it. It was a thick velvety red cord with a tassel on the end. It looked like it could have been used to tie back old fashioned drapes.

Hutch was deep in thought, running the soft cord through his fingers.

"That from a Sherlock story, Hutch?" asked Starsky.

"It seems familiar. It certainly looks the part. But nothing's coming to mind." said Hutch.

"It'll come to you. You can out Sherlockian anybody. I got faith in you, ya Big Blond Geek!" Starsky grinned.

Hutch smiled at Starsky's heartfelt praise. He never would have thought in a million years that Ken Sigerson would find love in the same place that Ken Hutchinson had.

Hutch picked up his book and turned to the contents page. He slowly went over each of Sherlock's Adventures in his mind hoping he could find where the red cord belonged. The phone rang and Starsky answered it.

Starsky held a brief conversation ending with, "That's great news. Thanks."

"What's the great news, Starsk?" asked Hutch.

Starsky held up his hands. "Just one sec, Hutch. Gotta tell Dobey somethin'. Be right back." Starsky bounced towards Dobey's office and knocked before entering. He faced Hutch for a moment. 

"Don't you dare move from that seat. You read your book like a good geek!" Starsky disappeared into the Captain's office.

Hutch sighed loudly, but did as he was told.

A few minutes later. Dobey and Starsky exited Dobey's office and headed Hutch's way. Dobey picked up the box on Hutch's desk. Hutch handed him the red cord to examine. Dobey nodded once.

Starsky place a hand on Hutch's shoulder and said, "Hutch, that was the medical college's lab on the phone. They got two cadavers missing ears. They didn't notice till they checked the message we left them yesterday. They weren't too excited. Said kids take stuff all the time especially around Halloween. I'm gonna go check it out."

Hutch stood and reached for his jacket. 

"That is great news! No homicide. Just a sick fuck who knows my name! Oh, sorry, Cap." Hutch apologized.

"Hutchinson, you're staying here till Starsky returns." Dobey used his no nonsense voice.

"Captain..."

Starsky is in charge here. He just asked me to take over guarding you while he's gone. I agreed. But if you need to use the facilities use them now. There's no way I'm checking the stalls for you!" Dobey chuckled and headed for the coffee pot.

Hutch tilted his head, lifted the mighty Hutchinson finger and pointed at Starsky, who shrugged.

Before Hutch could say a word. Starsky grabbed his jacket and ran for the door.

Dobey laughed. "Don't try to escape, Hutch. I got my gun loaded."

Hutch sank into his chair defeated.

.oOOo.

Two hours later Hutch was no closer to finding the meaning of the red cord. His phone rang and he was glad of the distraction.

"Hi, Cal! What's wrong, Buddy?" Hutch was concerned. Cal sounded upset.

Dobey came out of his office. "Is that my Cal?" Dobey asked. Hutch nodded.

"Okay, Cal. It's going to be fine. Just calm down." Hutch stood and played with the phone cord nervously.

"It's Starsky?" asked Hutch.

Dobey came closer.

"Two shots?"

"Where Cal? Back of the neck? Awwww, poor thing."

Dobey reached for the phone. Hutch pulled it closer and put up a hand to ward off his Captain.

"Listen, Cal. He's a tough little guy. He just needs some TLC. Get a hot water bottle wrap it in a towel and lay him on it. If he doesn't look better tomorrow. I'll pick him up and take him to the Doc myself. Okay, Buddy?" Hutch nodded and smiled at the Captain. Then hung up.

"What the Hell?" bellowed Dobey. "Why is Starsky with Cal? Why were shots fired? What happen to Starsky?"

Starsky came up behind Dobey and tapped his shoulder.

"Why ya yellin', Cap?" Starsky asked innocently.

Dobey sputtered and turned to Hutch. There was a mischievous glint in Hutch's eye.

"Oh! Captain! You didn't think I was talking to Cal about our Starsky, did you? I was talking to him about Starsky the kitty. Poor thing got two shots at the Vet today and Cal was worried about him." Hutch gave Dobey a sunshine smile.

Dobey's mouth twitched.

"Starsky! Take your Partner home before I put him out of his misery. I'm not watching him again. He's a handful!"

Dobey stormed into his office. Starsky heard "Damn Cats!" before the door slammed.

Starsky stared at the closed door, a big grin lit up his face.

"Oh. Hutch!" Starsky looked at Hutch in admiration. "This Starsky & Hutch cat thing. It's beautiful. Like a work of Art. Like you!"

Hutch laughed reached for Starsky's arm and gave it a squeeze.

"It is good isn't it? And I haven't even shown any one your coupon... yet!"

Starsky poked Hutch in the stomach none too gently. Hutch huffed out a laugh. 

"Come on, Blondie. We betta get outta here before he realizes he gave us three hours off!"

.oOOo.

Hutch insisted they stop by his house on the way home. He needed to pick up some clothes, books and water his plants. Starsky didn't like the idea. He loved Hutch's place, but it was a security nightmare. Starsky gave Hutch one hour to do his thing. He was enjoying being officially in charge of Hutch's welfare, even if the reason for it gave him chills. Starsky was planning to treat Hutch to a nice seafood dinner at "The Spiny Lobster," their new favorite restaurant. Then Starsky planned to keep a very, very close eye on Hutch all night long. 

"Might handcuff him to the bed!" Starsky chuckled to himself at the thought. 

Starsky was sitting at Hutch's table drinking a Pepsi he found in the back of the fridge. He watched Hutch bustle about filling up a duffle bag with clothes and toiletries. Starsky's thoughts returned to the reason Hutch was packing.

"Hey, Hutch! Why the Hell do you keep your house key above the door? Why don't you use the key ring my Ma gave you?"

"That key ring is for car keys, Starsk." Hutch said simply.

"That's dumb." Starsky stated.

Hutch stopped packing and looked up. "I've never thought about it, Starsk. Always just did it. Keys are always over the door in Minnesota."

"In New York the doors got three locks, a chain, a dead bolt and a peep hole. And that's in the good neighborhoods."

Hutch laughed. "Starsk, you're just feeling paranoid. No one from California would think to look for a key on the lintel of the door." 

Starsky didn't agree with that logic. But he liked the way his Hutch said "lintel," so he let it go...for now.

"Hey, Hutch! I've revised my future plans! We should go rob houses in Minnesota, it wouldn't even technically be breaking and entering since everybody's got a key over their door. But not in the Winter. We'll head to Bolivia and rob banks in the Winter. Butch Starsky and the Duluth Kid."

Hutch walked over to Starsky and dropped two huge books on the table in front of him with a loud bang. He leaned over and whispered in Starsky's ear.

"Don't tempt me, Baby. That sounds real good right about now." Hutch nibbled on Starsky's ear for a second before heading off to fill his watering can.

Starsky shivered and smiled. He looked at the heavy volumes in front of him. "'The Annotated Sherlock Holmes' by William S. Baring-Gould." Starsky read aloud. 

"I remember these monsters, never noticed they were Sherlock Holmes books, some Detective I am." said Starsky. "I recall I saved you from being crushed to death when you fell asleep on the couch with these things on your chest..."

"Oh, yeah!" Hutch called from the jungle. "I had a dream that an elephant was sitting on my chest. I couldn't breath! Then I opened my eyes, saw you with the books in your hands..."

Starsky called back. "And you said all sleepy and cute, 'Where's the elephant, Starsk?'" Starsky did a Hutch imitation.

Hutch smiled. "And you said, 'Where it always is, Blondie, right in the middle of the room.'" Hutch did a perfect Starsky.

They both laughed.

"I love ya, Starsk!" Hutch called.

"Right back at ya, Babe! Hurry up! I'm gettin' hungry."

Starsky opened the first volume of "The Annotated" and skimmed through it. Sidney Paget's illustrations of the Sherlock Holmes stories caught his eye.

"Nice pictures in this book. You were right. Watson and Holmes are lookin' good. Awww, here's a drawin' where they're walkin' arm in arm."

"'The Resident Patient.' I like that illustration too." Hutch's voice came from further back in the jungle.

Starsky flipped a few more pages. 

"Hey! Here's a drawin' of Sherlock hitting somethin' that looks like the red cord we got! What's 'The Speckled Band' about?"

Starsky heard Hutch let out a pain filled "Ahhhhhh." Followed by the sounds of broken pottery and a thud, as Hutch's body fell to the floor.

Starsky in one fluid move was out of his seat with his gun drawn, heading for Hutch.

"Sss...snake! Snake! Snake!" Hutch screamed. "There! There!" Hutch moaned. "Shoot it, Starsk!" Hutch crawled further into the corner of the room. Starsky took in his Partner with a glance. Hutch was cradling his arm, his face pale. He gestured towards a rattlesnake coiling on the floor getting ready to strike again.

"Don't move, Hutch. Stay real still." Starsky said calmly as he crouched and took aim. His hand steady, his aim sure. The gunshot blast made Hutch jump and close his eyes tight. The snake was dead.

Starsky slid his gun back in it's holster and scrambled to Hutch's side.

"It's okay. It's okay, Baby! I know all about snake bite first aid. Here sit up. Gotta make sure your heart's above the bite." Starsky slowly moved Hutch to a sitting position. He gently moved Hutch's hand away from the bite on his right forearm and examined it.

"Oooooo, Starsk! It burns! It burns! My...my arm's on fire!" Hutch moved to cover the bite with his hand, but Starsky stopped him.

"Don't touch it or move your arm, Baby." Starsky removed Hutch's ring, then placed Hutch's arm across his lap.

"Remember the time we had Dr. Vernet and his life partner Patrick over for dinner, Hutch?" Starsky said calmly.

"Why do you always ask me if I remember things you know I'll never forget, Starsky?" Hutch let out a low moan. "It hurts." he cried. "Do something!"

"I am. I'm gonna take good care of you. Listen. When you were showin' Patrick the jungle, I told the Doc that you were a nature boy and if I was gonna take care of you right I needed to know about all the things that could go wrong in the wilderness. Things like snake bites. So he sent me a bunch of real good pamphlets on first aid. I memorized them." Starsky ran his hand through Hutch's hair. His skin was cold and clammy.

"First thing to do when someone gets a snake bite is to get them away from the snake. That's done. Second, you make sure the bite is lower than the heart. Done. Then you remove any jewelry like rings, 'cause the hand might swell up. Done. Next you have to calm them down, 'cause panic and movement makes the heart beat faster and that makes the venom travel faster. You feelin' calmer listenin' to me yammerin'?"

"Y...Y... Yeah. Starsk. Your voice always calms me." Hutch gave Starsky a shaky smile.

"Okay then. Now you need to know that no one dies of snake bites in California any more. I got four whole hours to get you some antivenin. And you are 20 minutes at the most away from me handin' you over to Dr. Vernet and gettin' you fixed up. And that's only if I drive real slow." Starsky placed a hand on Hutch's cheek and smiled. "Do you think I'm gonna drive my Baby to the Hospital real slow?" 

"N... No." Hutch took a shallow, shaky breath and leaned into Starsky's warm hand.

Starsky continued "The thing that would cause the most trouble is lettin' you get all upset or lettin' you walk around. So you keep still and calm. I got ya covered, Babe. Oh! Let me get you a blanket. Be right back."

Starsky grabbed a blanket and a sheet from the bed. He paused to take scissors from the kitchen. And ran back to Hutch.

"Starsk, I ccc... can't sss...stop sh...shaking. I'm cold but my arm's on fire." Starsky placed the blanket over Hutch and gave him a quick kiss. 

"You're doin' great, Hutch. I'm so proud of how calm you are." Starsky started to cut the sheet into a big triangle.

"Are you going to cut the bbb... bite and suck out the ve...venom?" Hutch asked. He had to swallow his panic at the very idea.

"No, Babe. That's only in the movies. You just let the wound be. You never use a tourniquet and you don't even need a bandage right away. You don't want to move the venom around. Rattlesnakes have hinged fangs. You wouldn't even reach the venom if you cut across the bite. I'm goin' to immobilize your arm with this sheet and carry you to the car. Easy as that." 

Starsky made quick work of putting Hutch's arm in a sling and wrapping a piece of sheet around his body and upper arm to keep the arm in place. He tucked the blanket around him and turned to the snake.

"That looks like a Pacific Rattler. Young one." Starsky frowned. A young rattler had stronger venom. He silently gave thanks that they were in a nice city house a few minutes from an ER and not a cold forbidding mountainside.

"In the wilderness, Hutch, you don't go after the snake. Not even if you kill it. 'Cause a snake can bite you even if it's dead!"

"Really, St...Starsk?" Hutch sounded like a little kid, and Starsky's heart melted.

"Yeah, really. We don't have that worry 'cause it don't have a head no more thanks to yours truly." Hutch gave a little laugh.

Starsky looked into Hutch's eyes. The trust he saw took his breath away.

"You okay if I do a few things? I gotta call the Hospital so they get the rattlesnake antivenin ready. Gotta bag up that snake, put it in my trunk so the Doc can identify it, then pull the Torino near the door."

"I... I feel funny. C...cold. Shaky and sick. But I'll be okay for a few minutes. Thanks, Starsk. You're amazing. I'm glad you're in ch...charge of me." Starsky smiled and kissed Hutch's hair. 

"Don't move, my Blue Sky." Starsky ran towards the kitchen to get a trash bag for the snake.

"Steel?" Hutch said weakly.

"Yeah?" Starsky turned.

"You figured it out. The Speckled Band was a deadly sss... snake. It entered the room of its victim on a bell pull. The... the red cord was a clue."

"Dollar short and a day late." grumbled Starsky. "Woulda been nice if I figured it out before you got hurt on my watch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned into a little Starsky public service announcement. "What to do if a rattlesnake bites your nature boy Partner."
> 
> Writing is weird.
> 
> LoVeLoVeLoVe---M.


	4. We Have Much To Hope From the Flowers

Starsky had Hutch at the ER entrance in less than the twenty minutes promised. Dr. Vernet met the Torino with its screaming siren and squealing tires with a wheelchair. With Starsky's help, Hutch was rushed into a waiting examining room.

Dr. Vernet sang the praises of Starsky's quick and efficient first aid to his assisting Intern and any one else who would listen. The snake was in fact a young Pacific Rattlesnake and the correct antivenin was administered promptly. Starsky hovered near Hutch the whole time, spewing interesting facts about dangerous native California wildlife, to keep Hutch's mind off the pain and nausea. And offering comforting words and gentle touches when Hutch felt spacey and confused.

The only really anxious time for Starsky was right after Dr. Vernet administered the antivenin. 

Hutch grabbed Starsky's hand and squeezed hard.

"Starsk." His voice was faint and raspy. "It feels like a war... in my b...body... in my veins."

"It's okay. Hutch. Hold on. You gotta give it time to work. Hold on to me. You'll feel better soon..."

Hutch looked into Starsky's Steel Blue eyes and found strength and love.

Hutch tried to take a deep breath, and found he could barely take a shallow one.

"Starsk... can't... breath... can't..."

Starsky moved out of the way as Dr. Vernet raised Hutch's bed and placed an oxygen mask on his face. Hutch breathed in greedily.

Dr. Vernet adjusted the oxygen flow. "Easy, Ken. Take slow, deep breaths. The venom has compromised your lungs, but it's already becoming inert. Just a few minutes and you'll be breathing easier."

Hutch nodded to the Doctor and searched for Starsky. Starsky moved forward and placed a hand on Hutch's chest.

"Breathe with me, Babe. Nice and even. In...out. In...out." Starsky regulated his own breathing so Hutch could follow along.

Hutch closed his eyes and felt more than heard Starsky's soothing voice. He held the image in his mind of Starsky wielding a swift sword and battling an army of demons for Hutch's soul. He opened his eyes and saw his Starsky with a tired smile on his face. Hutch's love for this man welled up in his heart. Hutch felt the warmth emanating from Starsky's hand fill his chest and his breath came easier.

.oOOo.

Several hours later, Hutch was ensconced in what Dr. Vernet jokingly called "The Starsky & Hutch Suite." A room with two beds and the only comfortable chair in the whole Hospital. The Doc had given his usual instructions to the staff that Starsky could remain at Hutch's side at all times and was to be fed coffee, meals and snacks at regular intervals.

Starsky was at the head of the bed absently stroking Hutch's hair. The soft sound of the nasal cannula feeding Hutch oxygen was the only noise. Hutch was finally resting peacefully.

Hutch opened his eyes.

"Hey." said Starsky softly. "I think you nodded off for a few. You feelin' better?"

"Yeah, Starsk. I do feel better." Hutch smiled, enjoying how Starsky's eyes lit up at the news.

Starsky placed a kiss on Hutch's dry lips. He paused to lick them, then pressed harder and entered Hutch's mouth briefly.

Starsky pulled back with a "Yuk." 

Hutch answered with a surprised, "Huh?"

"Sorry, Babe. Been wantin' to do that for hours, but you taste funny. Kinda reptiley."

Hutch's tongue darted out of his mouth several times.

"What ever do you mean ssssssssssStarsky?" Hutch raised one eyebrow.

"Don't be turnin' into no Radioactive Snakeman on me Hutch. I got enough troubles keepin' mild mannered Hutch in line!" said Starsky.

"Could be cool to have a sssssssuperhero for a Partner, don't you think, sssssssStarsk?"

"All depends on what snake like powers you bring to the table, Snakeman." Starsky grinned.

At that moment Officer Davis from traffic entered Hutch's room, his helmet in his hand. "Okay, you guys are definitely weird. And Hutch! Man! What is it with you and homicidal maniacs? Dobey's outside talking to the Doc. He pulled me off night duty to act as your guard dog. I was happy to do it. But snakes? I'm so glad I'm a motorcycle cop.

Starsky came around the bed and pulled Davis into a hug.

"It's great to see ya, Davis! How's the new Liberty Harley? Boy, that's a beautiful bike. You get that special wax you were telling me about?"

"Not yet, Man. But if Dobey gives me a bonus for helping out you guys like last time I might get the special wax and a 10 inch orbital buffer. I'll let you use it for the Torino, if I do."

"Wow! Really? An orbital buffer? That would make my Best Girl shine like a motherfuc..."

"Starsk?" Hutch interrupted.

"Yeah?" said Starsky.

"Could you Grease Monkeys keep it down. I'm recovering here."

Davis laughed and went to Hutch's bedside. He placed a hand on Hutch's leg patting it lightly.

"Sorry, Hutch. How you feeling, Man? You're gonna be okay, right?" Davis spoke with real sincerity.

"I'm fine, Davis. Thanks to Starsky. Turns out he's an expert on first aid." Hutch smiled.

"I heard!" said Davis. "That will come in real handy with you around, Hutch!" Davis laughed.

The three men looked up as Dobey entered the room.

The big man's face was etched with concern.

He walked to Hutch's bed and looked into his eyes.

"You good, Son?" 

Hutch smiled softly. "I'm good, Captain."

Dobey glanced up at the various tubes coming from Hutch's IV and oxygen tank, as if sending a silent prayer of thanks to heaven.

"Doctor Vernet says he'll probably let you out tomorrow evening, but not before. You do everything he tells you. And don't give him a hard time if he wants to keep you longer. That's an order."

"Yes, Sir." said Hutch.

Dobey turned to Starsky. "I've got a team going over Hutch's place. But there's little hope of finding anything. We know how he got in..."

"...the key over the door." Dobey, Starsky, and Davis all said at the same time. Then all three broke into laughter.

Hutch cringed.

"Guess, we're not in Minnesota any more, ToTo." said Hutch quietly.

There was a brief knock on the door. A nurses aide entered with a bouquet of orange Lilies.

"These were just delivered for you, Detective." she said with a smile.

Starsky took the flowers and turned to Hutch. Hutch gasped and turned an even paler shade of white.

"Hutch?" said Starsky, "What is it?"

"The flowers are from the attacker. It's the Victorian language of flowers. I...I used it in one of my stories. Orange Lilies mean hatred and death."

Starsky examined the Lilies. "No card. Nothin'." Starsky slammed the bouquet into the trash.

Dobey addressed Davis. "Ed, Call the florist and see if they can ID the sender. Then I want you to look over the layout of this floor. Check where all the exits and entrances are. Possible places someone could hide. Then station yourself at Hutch's door. Check ID's carefully. Doctor Vernet's on duty tonight. He said he'd check on Hutch himself. If you get a bad feeling about anyone, check with him before you let them in the room."

Davis winked at Hutch. And headed out.

"You can count on me, Sir." said Davis.

"I know. That's why I entrusted Hutch's safety to you. Don't let me down."

Davis smiled, nodded at Starsky and left.

"Cap." said Starsky. "Right before Hutch got bit we connected the red cord to another Sherlock Holmes story. The Speckled Band, that's a poisonous snake."

"And we think my Publisher might have given my identity away, or someone got into their files." added Hutch.

"Not much to go on." said Dobey. "Starsky, I take it you're staying with Hutch tonight?"

"Yes, Sir. Won't leave his side, Sir."

Dobey smiled. He knew when Starsky was anxious around him, he sometimes reverted to his military training.

"Son, you couldn't have prevented that snake from attacking Hutch. You didn't have enough information and from what I've seen this person's behavior is very erratic. They must have known Hutch wouldn't be alone. That he could easily get help. Why use a snake as a weapon? It doesn't make a lot of sense." 

Starsky sighed. "You're right, Cap. The ear thing was a dead end. Anyone could have walked into that lab. There was no security at all. Soon as Hutch is up to it we'll check out his Publisher." said Starsky.

"We have much to hope from the flowers." Hutch said in odd sleepy voice. "Holmes said that, but those Lilies hold no hope. All a game, The Great Game. Guess which Adventure it is. Guess how you might die. Solve the mystery before the last paragraph. Before you breathe your last breath. Run and hide before Moriarty finds you..."

Dobey and Starsky exchanged troubled looks.

"Hutch? You okay?" asked Dobey. 

Starsky went to the bed and spoke softly. "Hutch? Buddy?"

"Can I go to sleep now, Starsk? You'll be here?"

"Sure, Hutch. Go to sleep."

"Hutch? One last thing then I'll go and let you get your rest." said Dobey.

"Yeah, Cap?" Hutch whispered, already half-asleep.

"Cal told me today he wanted to be a Doctor. Thanks to you and those cats. My son. A Doctor. I was never more proud of my boy. I'm proud of all my boys, Hutch." Dobey nodded at Starsky. Then turned to leave closing the door behind him.

Starsky went back to stroking Hutch's hair.

"Hear that, my Hutch? Even when you're diabolical you're still an Angel."

"Love you,,," Hutch mumbled and fell asleep.

Starsky sighed. "Sleep tight, Baby. I won't let the bedbugs, snakes or anything else bite ya."

.oOOo.

The next evening Hutch was released with an admonishment to Starsky from the Doc to call him if Hutch showed any signs of the wound being infected. Antibiotics in hand, Starsky steered Hutch out of the hospital, into the Torino and straight to "The Spiny Lobster" for their overdue dinner out. Starsky ordered a sampler of every appetizer they had and a glass of water for Hutch, so Hutch could steal and nibble off Starsky's plate to his heart's content.

Starsky couldn't resist asking the bemused waitress if they had rattlesnake, so Hutch could bite back.

Hutch hid behind his menu.

"Sorry, hot stuff. No snakes." she said sending a wink Hutch's way.

"Do you have frog's legs?" Starsky asked sweetly.

"Yes!" she said.

Starsky grinned. "Then hop over to the bar and get me a beer!"

The waitress took Hutch's menu and smacked Starsky with it. Then hopped away.

Hutch tried to keep a straight face, but lost it. Hutch & Starsky giggled like school girls.

Hutch wiped giggle tears from his eyes and said, "Thanks, Starsk. I needed a good laugh."

"Anytime, Snakeman." Starsky raised and lowered his eyebrows and Hutch giggled some more.

.oOOo.

Hutch had enjoyed his nibbles and enjoyed Starsky playing the clown for his benefit. But he was fading fast. The snake bite still burned a bit under its gauze bandage. He felt cold, weak and headachey, like he had the flu. But being around Starsky had lifted his spirits and made him feel all sorts of warm inside. Stealing Starsky's food had made him feel full and sleepy.

Through all his clowning around, Starsky had kept a watchful eye on his Partner. Starsky's laughter masked the deep concern he felt for his Partner's welfare. They were no closer to finding out who was behind the attack. The guy was clever. The florist had said someone slid an average business envelope with two hundred dollar bills and a type written note under her door right before she closed for the day. The note asked for orange Lilies to be delivered that night to K. Hutchinson at Memorial. If done promptly she could keep the change. She took the challenge, and the exorbitant tip.

She never saw the mysterious customer. The investigation was moving way too slow for Starsky's taste. But Dobey had said it. Hutch was his case. Keeping Hutch safe was always his case first and foremost.

On the ride home, Hutch dozed. Starsky watched the road and watched the fading light send flickering shadows across Hutch's too pale face. Starsky took a shaky breath. He loved his Hutch more than life itself. He always loved his friend, but now it was as if the love was his life. Starsky breathed it like oxygen. Drank it in like water. Hungered for it when they were apart. And when Hutch's fragile mortality made its presence known, when it entered their life of love to try to shatter it to pieces, Starsky fought back. He knew their love was more powerful than mortality, it was immortal. He hoped their love would always win the battle.

Starsky helped Hutch settle on the couch, warmed by an afghan and a cup of his favorite Red Zinger tea.

"Steel? Sit by me." Hutch patted the couch.

Starsky wiped his wet hands on a dish towel and plopped down next to Hutch.

"Steel. Why don't you hang up your gun and relax?"

"I'm still in charge of you, Sky. I ain't takin' my gun off and I'm not relaxin' till we find this creep."

"I appreciate it." said Hutch. "But we're safe here. I was looking forward to being close to you. I want to show you how grateful I am for you taking care of me."

Hutch's voice was low and soft. He rubbed Starsky's neck and noting the tension there, started a one handed massage of his shoulders.

Starsky started to melt under Hutch's administrations. But he forced himself to get up.

"Hutch. I'm sorry, but I'm on duty. When you're done with your tea, I'm going to redo your bandage, take your temp and give you your meds. Then you're goin' to bed. I'm goin' move a chair so that it's between the door and the bedroom and plant myself in it. You've been in enough motels guardin' witnesses to know the drill."

"Starsky! This is ridiculous! I don't need a babysitter. I don't mind a body guard, but I want you to guard my body while you are next to me in the bed, preferably naked!"

"Hutch. Don't fight me on this. Jeez! I just want ya safe. Hutch I gotta make ya safe. I gotta!" Starsky cried.

"Hey, Buddy. What's going on, huh? You know I can take care of myself. I appreciate the help while I recover, but this is something else, isn't it. Tell me, Steel. You can tell me."

Hutch leaned forward and followed Starsky's pacing with his eyes.

Starsky finally stopped and sighed. He sat back down on the edge of the couch and folded his hands in front of him. Hutch leaned back with slight moan.

"Sky? You feelin' okay?" Starsky asked.

"I feel like shit. Stop stalling. Tell me what's bothering you so we can both get some rest."

Starsky took a shaky breath. 

"We been makin' love for what? About four months now?" asked Starsky.

Hutch smiled. 

"I love it that you call it making love, Steel." Hutch touched Starsky's arm.

"I call it as I see it, Sky." said Starsky. "Don't interrupt, this is hard enough."

Hutch began to worry. 

"So, at first we were just sort of foolin' around, experimentin', bein' all open minded and liberated. It was fun. Right?" Starsky looked at Hutch sideways. He noticed the worrying starting.

"More than fun, Steel. It was the best time of my life. It still is, Baby." Hutch was really worried now.

"Mine too, Sky. Try to listen all the way before you make some more worry lines in that beautiful face."

Starsky smiled, but Hutch didn't.

Starsky continued.

"Remember that dinner with Doc Vernet and Patrick?"

"Starsk! Do you think I'm brain dead? Do you think I have short term memory loss? You constantly ask me if I remember things I will NEVER forget! Tell me what's wrong already!" Hutch regretted yelling since it made his head hurt.

"Easy, Hutch. You're supposed to be restin'. Do You?"

"What? Do I what?" Hutch rubbed his brow.

"Remember." said Starsky.

"David Michael Starsky! Tell me!" Hutch cried.

"Jeez, Hutch. Don't go all enraged parent on me! I ain't a little kid and you ain't my Ma, that's for certain!"

Hutch grabbed a couch pillow and buried his face in it to cover a scream.

Starsky pulled the pillow away and asked, "Feel better? Ready to listen?"

Hutch glared. Starsky said, "Good," and continued.

"Well, after I saw what The Doc and Patrick had, I started to think about it all the time. I mean they were happy and committed to each other. I started imagining you and me like that. It was easy. And after a while it was like breathin', thinkin' of us like that. I sorta married you in my mind without tellin' ya."

Starsky looked at Hutch guiltily. He thought Hutch would be mad.

Hutch reached out and took Starsky's hand.

"Is there more, Baby?" he said softly.

"Hutch. I don't want the ladies any more. Four months have gone by and neither of us have dated anybody. Even a double date just for laughs! And I don't miss it, but Hutch..."

Hutch waited. He could tell something was really upsetting his Partner.

"I'm scared to death I'm gonna lose you, Sky."

"Aww, Steel. We lead dangerous lives. You've always known that. We keep each other alive out there. But we both know it could..."

"That's just it! I always knew if I lost you it would be like losing my left arm. Worse even. But now all of a sudden I feel like I CAN'T lose you. I'd never survive it. Like I need to wrap you up in bubble wrap and lock you in a tower for only me. Only me, Hutch. I'm fuckin' jealous of everything and everyone who even looks at you. I've got this...this... urge to keep you safe. I gotta be with you on the streets, not for your protection, but for me. I need you like a motherfucker! I've studied fuckin' first aid for you!"

Starsky stopped and looked at Hutch. It took what was left of his breath away.

Hutch was leaning back on the couch. One arm gently rubbing Starsky's thigh. His sky blue eyes were wide and soft. Full of tenderness. Half a smile was on his lips.

"Steel? I think you're in love. The once in your life, happily ever after, forever kind of love. The kind that makes you crazy and makes you stupid. The kind they write poems and songs about. But it's going to be okay. You'll survive it. You know why?" Hutch leaned forward.

"Why?" Starsky responded.

Hutch leaned into Starsky and whispered in his ear.

"Because I'm in love with you, too and we will survive it together."

"No Shit, Sherlock?" asked Starsky with a smile.

"No Shit, Watson." said Hutch.

"You know, Sky, that Sherlockian creepo had it so wrong. You are not a Lily and never will be. You are a Sunflower. Big, beautiful and golden yellow and always seeking out the sun..."

"Oh, Steel. You're talking poetry again..."

"So? I'm in love!" Starsky gave his true love a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LoVeLoVeLoVeLoVeLoVeLoVeLoVe!
> 
> I love you Starsky & Hutch  
> I really do-oooo  
> I don't love anyone  
> As much as you-oooo  
> When I'm not writing you  
> I'm blue-oooo  
> Oh! Starsky & Hutch  
> I love you!


	5. Elementary, My Dear Detectives

Starsky opened the door belonging to Hutch's Publisher and ushered Hutch in with a possessive hand on his back.

"Welcome to Wiggins Publishing House!" said the pretty red haired receptionist. She looked over her wire rimmed glasses at Starsky & Hutch.

"How may I help you?" she said politely.

Hutch showed her his badge as Starsky looked around.

Wiggins Publishing House was in an industrial park surrounded by aluminum buildings dedicated to making invaluable small parts for California's many industries. The old metal structure looked like it was built before the war. It had an odd front reception area with a nice carpet, a old fashioned settee, two winged back leather chairs, and a rattan one near a false fireplace with a mantel. The receptionist's desk was antique. A bronze statue of Sherlock Holmes wearing his deerstalker topped best stood in a corner. The place looked like a Victorian Gentleman's dream. But modern business equipment and file cabinets spoiled the effect. The back room was one large book depository lined with metal shelves and filled with newly published paperback books neatly arranged. There seemed to be no one else in the building.

"I'm Detective Hutchinson. This is my Partner, Detective Starsky. We're here on behalf of a Detective Sigerson." Hutch smiled as her eyes went wide. "We're investigating an incident, he was attacked." Hutch waited for her reaction.

"Oh! No! Tell me he wasn't hurt! I never met him but I'm a big fan of his. We are all big fans of him around here!" The young woman seemed honestly concerned.

Starsky stepped in. "He's fine. But it was a close call. We don't like our friends to have close calls." 

Starsky sat on the corner of the desk and picked up a file, skimming through it. The woman was not the least bit intimidated. Starsky then noticed Detective Sigerson's file was open on the desk. The woman rose and offered her hand to the Detectives each in turn.

"I'm Mrs. Wiggins." she shook Hutch's hand and noticed him wince slightly. She noticed the turned back sleeves of his flannel shirt, the small bandage on his arm, the faint circles under his eyes and his pale face. 

"My husband is William Wiggins. This is our business." She turned to Starsky and shook his offered hand. She noticed the file he was looking at, the scowl on his face, the protective way he glanced at his Partner. 

"I can speak for my Husband and myself." she turned to Hutch. "We'll help you any way we can... Detective Sigerson. Was the snake that bit you a Speckled Band or something less exotic?" Hutch could almost hear the DaDaDa of dramatic music in the background. 

Starsky stood and made an instinctive move for his gun, but stopped himself as Hutch laughed.

"Ah! You know his methods!" Hutch was beaming. "What gave it away, exactly?"

Mrs. Wiggins crossed her arms. "Elementary, my dear Detective. The bandage, your pallor, your Partner's overly protective concern for you. There are two tiny blood stains on your bandage. A snake bite. The wound was disturbed. It was recently changed by someone who cares for you very much. The bandage is a perfect rectangle, the tape evenly spaced. but it's also tied on with a little bow, not something busy medical personnel would do. Detective Starsky did it, I think. A Sherlock Holmes related snake bite? The Speckled Band. And I just finished updating your file, K. Hutchinson aka Detective Sigerson. I connected your name to Sigerson when your Partner looked at the file. You've sold quite a few books this month."

"Well done, Mrs. Wiggins! Holmes himself could not have done better!" Hutch was truly impressed.

Mrs. Wiggins shrugged off the compliment.

"Sherlock Holmes would have known who you were when you walked in the door. He would have known you were coming and solved the case by now. I was dreadfully slow witted!" she chuckled.

Starsky rolled his eyes. "I feel like I'm on an alien planet, here. An alien planet run by geeks. You Sherlockians gonna take over the world by deducing us regular humans to death or what?"

Mrs. Wiggins smiled. "Sherlockians can get pretty intense. Please. Sit down. I'll get coffee or would you rather have tea?"

"Coffee's fine." Hutch was glad to sit and settled into one of the wing backed chairs. He moaned quietly when he did. Starsky noticed and so did Mrs. Wiggins.

"I'm so sorry you were hurt, Detective. I really hope I can help." she said sincerely and left to get the coffee.

"How ya holdin' up, Babe?" Starsky sat in the other wing back next to Hutch.

"I'm just tired. My muscles ache a little. You took good care of me, Starsk."

Starsky smiled and patted Hutch's knee.

"Detective Sigerson's file there on the desk. It has your real name and address. Anyone could have found it easily. What happened to all the security in this town?"

Mrs. Wiggins entered with a laden tray. Starsky spied the scones. His opinion of Sherlockians was raised one notch.

"We don't need security, Detective. We're a mail order business mostly. Hardly ever handle cash. And quite frankly, no one but hardcore Sherlockians even know we exist. The only valuable thing we have is a first edition 'STUD'. That's locked in my desk drawer.

"What's a STUD?" Starsky mumbled through his half-eaten scone. "These are great." he added.

Hutch spoke softly like he was in a dream. "An original copy of 'A Study In Scarlet', Starsk. The first Sherlock Holmes novel."

Starsky looked at his Partner and smiled. He leaned towards Mrs. Wiggins.

"Would it be possible for my Partner to peruse said STUD? He seems to have lost the power of speech, and geeked himself into shock. He's had a hard week, poor thing."

Mrs. Wiggins laughed. "Of course! I must ask you to wear gloves, though. I'll get them."

Hutch's sunshine smile lit up the whole room.

Starsky's heart tingled with love for his geek.

A few minutes later Starsky watched as Hutch donned white gloves and reverently held 'A Study In Scarlet' in his hands. Starsky smiled as Hutch disappeared from the room and climbed the seventeen steps to 221B Baker Street.

"He's gone." said Starsky quietly. "Can't even hear us."

"My Husband gets that same look. It's how he captured my heart." she smiled and turned her attention towards Starsky.

"Detective Sigerson is my favorite Sherlockian author. I'm thrilled to meet him in person. His pastiches seem like he's channeling Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I adored his last book." she assessed Starsky with a strange look. "He's really a Detective! No wonder his works are so... believable." she smiled.

Starsky cleared his throat. He thought, "I better take charge of this conversation before Little Miss-Deductions figures out what I had for dinner last night and who I had for dessert!" 

"i don't know why, but I trust you, Mrs. Wiggins." said Starsky. He filled her in on the pertinent facts of the case.

"Detective, anyone could have looked at that file! I'm mortified. My poor clients! Poor Detective Hutchinson! I promise I'll change my system to better protect my Sherlockian's identities."

"Hey! How could you have known? The Sherlockians you work with are just enthusiastic fans. Harmless, for the most part. You said you sold some copies of Sigerson's book recently?" asked Starsky. He liked how much Mrs. Wiggins cared, but didn't want her to be so upset.

"Yes! It was wonderful! The cast of the play 'Sherlock Holmes' came for a visit. Their producers wanted them to stay in character while they tour the country. We asked them to they stop by and allow us to take photos for our catalog. Oh! It was thrilling! Holmes and Watson came in wearing their Victorian garb. Their banter was enthralling! They never slipped out of character. It was like Holmes and Watson were really here! They're in Bay City for a six weeks. I've got tickets."

"Mrs. Wiggins? You've gone over to the geek side. I need you back with me." Starsky sighed. He needed a beer and a ballgame. no books.

"Sorry." Mrs. Wiggins thought a moment. "There were several cast members here. We took photos and had a High Tea. They were everywhere. Sigerson's file was right on the desk! Holmes, Watson and most of the cast bought Sigerson's new book. I also sold five copies of his first book. I remember Holmes said he was a big fan. Had already read the new book, and wanted another copy for his dressing room. He told Watson he would love it."

"So, no one seemed to object to the book? No one said anything bad about it?" asked Starsky.

"Sherlockians are pretty open minded. They love to argue about whether Irene Adler or John Watson was Sherlock's first love. I've even heard it discussed at BSI dinners."

"BSI?" asked Starsky.

"Baker Street Irregulars. The cream of the Sherlockian crop. Invitation only. My Husband was inducted two years ago. I went along as a guest. That's where he is now. At a dinner in New York. Very good for business."

Starsky sighed. "Well we know how someone got Hutch's name and address. But doesn't seem like we're any closer to the who."

"No one said they objected to Sigerson's book. But one cast member was acting very oddly. I thought at the time he was just playing the part. He dressed all in black. Sat in the chair Detective Hutchinson is in and glared at everyone. Wouldn't talk, eat or drink. His facial expressions showed disdain for Sigerson's book. He bought nothing. He was alone here in the front reception area for an hour or so. He could have easily looked at the file, Detective. But... no that's silly. Couldn't be him." she said.

"Who?" asked Starsky.

"Moriarty." said Mrs. Wiggins.

Hutch looked up and gently closed 'A Study In Scarlet'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky Hutch getting to hold a first edition STUD in his hands! Wish it was me! 
> 
> I mean me holding the book, not Hutch holding me... uhhhh... wait a minute. That works both ways! 
> 
> NOTE: Sherlockians have a secret code called the Christ Code. (Named after Jay Findley Christ a member of the Sherlockian Hall Of Fame. Yeah we got us one of those too.)
> 
> It's the official way Sherlockians abbreviate the 60 canon stories for writing purposes. You drop all the small words from the title, and capitalize the first four letters of the main descriptive word of the title.
> 
> Example: A Study In Scarlet = STUD  
> Example: The Adventure Of The Speckled Band = SPEC
> 
> So If you're in a bar and you overhear two guys discussing whether they like STUD or LADY best, Don't get the wrong idea. They're just Sherlockians.
> 
> LoVeLoVeLoVeLoVe--- M.


	6. The Napoleon Of Crime

Starsky was talking to the security guard who let the Detectives into the old Bay City Bijoux Theater, where 'Sherlock Holmes' was being performed. The guard was pointing out the inadequate turn of the century fire alarm system. Starsky rambled on about the lack of security in Bay City. 

Hutch entered the theater proper. He ran his hand along the red velvet cushions of the old fashioned cast iron theater seats. A slight movement on the stage caught his eye.

The stage was set with a replica of Sherlock Holmes' Baker Street Victorian sitting room. It was amazingly accurate right down to the flesh and blood Sherlock Holmes who was stretched out on the leather sofa reading a book.

Hutch took in the sight before him and smiled. He knew as soon as he spoke to Holmes the magic spell would be broken. Holmes was reading Detective Sigerson's book with a soft smile on his face. Detective Hutchinson took a snap shot of the scene with his mind. He would cherish it always.

Hutch moved forward.

"Mr. Holmes? May I speak with you?" Hutch slowly climbed the steps to the stage. Holmes sat up and smiled. He looked Hutch up and down.

"You certainly may, my dear. I'm sure I would enjoy that immensely!" Holmes reached out to shake hands.

"I'm Detective Hutchinson of the Bay City Police." Hutch smiled. He was more than a bit star struck. He took out his badge and showed it to Holmes. 

"I'm here investigating a case, Mr. Holmes." Hutch felt a thrill saying his hero's name out loud. His eyes lit up. Holmes noticed.

"A real Detective? This gets better and better. Did any one ever tell you you have the most piercing blue eyes? Oh, I'm sure I'm not the first, am I?"

Hutch's piercing blue eyes opened wide.

"Umm... Mr. Holmes... Wh...What is your real name?" 

"James Weatherwax." the actor said with a flourish. "But I am to stay in character as much as possible, in the contract you know. It's quite wonderful being Sherlock Holmes for six weeks. I adore all the linen and tweed. You can call me Sherlock, you handsome thing."

Sherlock ran a finger down Hutch's arm. Then noticed the bandage.

"Oh!" cried Holmes. "A wounded warrior! Wounded in the line of duty no doubt! You brave blond hero. Pray, do sit down. You look weary, my dear!"

Hutch was firmly yet gently pushed onto the sofa. He tried to protest. But Holmes wouldn't have it.

Just then a handsome mustached man in a bowler hat and a tweedy wool suit appeared at the door of the set. He entered, a smirk on his face.

"Sherlock? What are you up to? Have you captured another poor unsuspecting Sherlockian? Are you going to have your way with him?"

"Not with you around, Watson." said Holmes as he insinuated himself onto the sofa next to Hutch. "This is Detective Hutchinson. He's investigating... something or other." Holmes placed a hand on Hutch's leg. "Isn't he delicious?"

Watson laughed at the look on Hutch's very red face. 

"Don't be alarmed, Detective. He's harmless. But he does need a keeper. I guess that's me for the duration."

Watson pulled Holmes off Hutch and sat him in his favorite chair by the fireplace. He patted Holmes' hair.

"Behave, Sherl. Or I'll tell them what your last acting job was." said Watson. Sherlock sat back and sulked.

"Hutch?" Starsky jogged down the aisle towards the stage. He jumped onto the stage without using the stairs. He saw Hutch was blushing, making his blue eyes even bluer. "What's goin' on here?" his tone was menacing. Watson looked at Holmes and saw a flicker of fear in Holmes' eyes.

"Th...This is my Partner Detective Starsky." said Hutch. He silently told Starsky to take over.

Watson stood between Holmes and Starsky and crossed his arms in a protective pose.

"My name is Mark Slade. I play Watson in this production. As you know we are supposed to stay in character. Sherlock got a bit carried away." said Watson.

"Seems like he tried to carry my Partner away with him. You okay, Hutch?" he offered Hutch a hand up.

"Of course I am. Sherlock was just fooling around. I got caught up in the magic, Starsk." Hutch smiled.

Starsky shook his head. "Freakin' Sherlockians." he mumbled.

Watson laughed. "Let's start again. Why are you here, Detectives?" Watson sat on the arm of Holmes' chair. He placed an arm loosely around Holmes' shoulders. Holmes moved slightly closer to Watson.

Starsky saw Sigerson's book on the table. He picked it up and raised it.

"Someone has been making death threats to Detective Sigerson, the author of this book. Our investigation has led us here. I want these threats to stop."

Hutch watched his Partner strut up and down the stage. His voice carried loud and strong in the perfect acoustics of the theater. Hutch mentally dressed him in a police inspector's uniform circa 1895. Inspector Starsky, Sir! At your service! Hutch had to sit down again.

Starsky stopped and slammed the book down on the table. All three men jumped.

"I'm tired of playing games. I will not allow these threats to continue. Someone hates Sigerson's book. Someone wants Sigerson dead. The only way someone is goin' to get to Sigerson is over my dead body. And I ain't plannin' on dyin' young. I want answers and I want them... NOW!" screamed Starsky. The empty theater echoed with Starsky's voice.

Watson stood.

"Moriarty." said Watson. 

"No, Watson. I agree he hates Sigerson's works. But murder? You're caught up in the role, Watson. Sigerson isn't even a real name must be a misunderstanding!" cried Holmes.

"Oh, he's real alright, Sherlock. I'm Sigerson. And someone is trying to murder me, that's for sure." said Hutch.

Watson and Holmes exchanged looks.

Starsky and Hutch did the same.

Watson continued. "Moriarty, aka, Adam Ainsworth from London. He's the only one of the crew that dislikes Sigerson's works. He's very strange. Keeps to himself and never ever slips out of character. At meetings, run throughs and even in his dressing room. He never slips. Our stage manager said he read for the role as Moriarty already in character, came dressed for the part and had the play memorized. I don't like the way he snarls at Sherl when he thinks I'm not looking. I... I think he might be capable of it."

"Where's Moriarty now?" asked Hutch.

"Why right here, Detective. Listening to my name being slandered by the good Doctor."

Moriarty entered the set. He was a tall thin man, dressed in a black Victorian morning suit with a vest richly embroidered in scarlet threads. His untidy graying hair skimmed his stooped shoulders. He moved his head from one person to another in a reptilian fashion. His voice was low and deadly calm.

Hutch felt a deep seated fear creep up his spine. Moriarty was just as he had imagined him as a child. He resembled his Father in form, and in demeanor. Hutch could sense the hate focused on himself. Images of his Father's abuse assaulted his mind. Moriarty's dark eyes took Hutch in. He moved closer. Hutch instinctively flinched, as memories of pain and hatred returned. He felt a hand on this shoulder. He looked into Starsky's face and saw the fierce love and strength he was silently offering. Hutch accepted the help.

Watson left Holmes' side and stood before Moriarty, stopping his movement and taking his attention away from the others.

Starsky smiled. "Watson would make a good cop." he thought.

"Lurking in the shadows, Ainsworth? Listening at keyholes?" Watson smirked as Moriarty bristled at the use of his real name.

"Don't call me that!" Moriarty sputtered.

"Sorry, Arty. Anything you want to tell these brave Detectives? Like what rock you crawled out from under?" Holmes let out a small giggle. 

Moriarty took a moment to compose himself.

"I didn't realize a public theater was a private place, Watson." Moriarty smiled. "And that curly-haired Detective wasn't exactly whispering. I heard more than enough to know you are accusing me of attempted murder without a bit of real evidence or these peace officers would have me frisked and handcuffed by now."

Moriarty turned from Watson and faced the empty theater. He paced a bit. And faced Starsky.

"It's true I don't care for Sigerson's work. I think it's sensationalism at it's worse. It lacks the reverence and dignity a pastiche of Sir Arthur's works deserves. But that is just a literary criticism. Nothing more." Moriarty addressed Hutch. "Surely, Detective Sigerson you are able to accept a little criticism from a learned Sherlockian not unlike yourself? After all, not everyone can be a besotted fan of yours."

Hutch felt Starsky tense beside him. He knew Moriarty was likely to have a black eye before the interview was over.

"Listen up, Mister Moriarty! You..." Moriarty interrupted Starsky. 

"Professor, not Mister, Detective. Have you even read the canon?" Moriarty said haughtily.

Starsky moved like quicksilver and grabbed Moriarty by his authentic reproduction lapels.

"How's about I call you Fuck Face. You like that moniker? How's about I throw you off this stage into row four and see if you bounce to row eight? How's about if I find out you hurt my Partner, I come back and smash your head in with a lead pipe in the conservatory. They'll blame Colonel Mustard!" cried Starsky.

Hutch ran to Starsky and touched his back with the flat of his hand.

"Starsk." he said simply. Hutch felt Starsky's tense muscles relax a bit.

Moriarty spoke in a harsh whisper. "Unhand me! You have no evidence! I know because I have done nothing! It's all a game, you're caught up in it! Both of you. Come back to reality, Detectives. I am not a villain because I act as one in a play. I am not the Napoleon of crime! Holmes and Watson don't exist." he hissed. "And neither do I."

Starsky let Moriarty go. He knew he was right. He was a good cop. He should know better than to be influenced by anything other than hard evidence. But still his flesh crawled when he looked at this guy. And thinking of him harming Hutch? He couldn't think of it or he'd lose it.

Moriarty straightened his clothes and left the stage heading for his dressing room backstage.

Starsky looked at Hutch. Hutch looked terrible. He was breathing heavily. He had a thin sheen of sweat across his brow.

Starsky put an arm around Hutch.

"Come on, Buddy. Let's get you outta here. I'll buy ya an ice cream cone." said Starsky. Hutch smiled.

Standing on the stage, Holmes & Watson watched Starsky & Hutch leave. Watson put an arm around Holmes.

"Come along, Sherlock. Let us leave this gloomy theater for a bit. I will buy you an ice cream cone." said Watson. Sherlock smiled.

Backstage, Moriarty called to the baby faced young actor who played Billy Wiggins, Baker Street Page and errand boy.

"Wiggins! Run and give these two tickets to the Detectives who have just left. A tall blond and a curly-haired brunette. Hurry and catch them in the parking lot. Tell them Mr. Holmes wanted them to be his guests at tomorrow evening's show. Say nothing else. Go!" said Moriarty. 

"Yes, Sir!" said Wiggins. 

As the young man ran out of the theater he thought to himself. "This Moriarty creep is getting out of hand. Ears and snakes! I'm going to ask for a lot more money. If the cops find out who's been doing his dirty work, I'm toast. Crazy Sherlockian Bastard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reproduction of William Gillette's play, 'Sherlock Holmes' toured the United States in 1976- 1977. It played simultaneously on Broadway and on tour.
> 
> I saw the Broadway play in 1977 and will never forget it. Ever.
> 
> The road tour starred none other than Leonard Nimoy as Sherlock Holmes! He played six weeks in LA. It's quite possible Starsky & Hutch or Paul & David could have seen it!
> 
> LoVeLoVeloVeLoVe---M.


	7. Marry Him, Murder Him

Hutch exited Starsky's shower singing 'Raindrops keep Falling On My Head'. He was feeling tons better after an entire night of holding Starsky close, a session of late morning love making and another nap. Starsky had a special way of handling the care and feeding of Hutch, demon chasing included. It was something Hutch could get used to. He wrapped a towel around himself and headed for the kitchen.

"Starsk? I'm ready for you to change this bandage. It really itches. Will you put extra cream on this time?" There was no answer.

"Starsk? Do you want to eat before we leave for the theater or after? The curtain rises at 7:00." Still no answer.

Hutch checked the bedroom.

"Starsk?"

Starsky was mostly dressed. He was only lacking his shoes and his shirt. A few wet curls clung to his neck still not dry from his earlier shower.

He was sitting on the bed cross legged, absorbed in a book, 'The Unsolved Mysteries Of Sherlock Holmes' by Detective K. Sigerson.

Starsky finally looked up.

"Jeez, Hutch. This is some hot stuff! The first kiss scene made me drool. How do you make up this stuff? It's great!" Starsky smiled and closed the book.

"How do you think? I imagined kissing you, then wrote it down." Hutch sat on the bed, then fell backwards, feet still on the floor. He put his good arm under his head and turned slightly to see Starsky's face.

"But you wrote some of this before we, you know." said Starsky.

"Everything I've learned about real true love I've learned from you, Steel. Every feeling, every desire. When I wrote a scene with Sherlock & John, I reached inside and drew on that love. Love is love. The feeling is the same no matter what your gender. No matter if you decide to have sex or not. I guess Ken Sigerson knew what my heart wanted before Ken Hutchinson did." 

Starsky put the book down and leaned forward. He started to play with Hutch's wet hair, curling the ends around his fingers absently.

"So, you write about our love, the love you know, no matter who the characters are? That's why it's fuckin' hotter than Huggy's Rolex?"

Hutch chuckled. "I guess so." Then asked softly, "Do you really like my stories, Steel? You're not even a Holmes fan."

"Sky, they are really good. Left me wantin' more. Much more." He kissed Hutch's lips. Hutch hummed happily.

"Why don't you branch out? Write some original characters. Do somethin' all your own. You could write The Great American Novel, Babe."

Hutch was touched by Starsky's faith in him, but just the thought of it made him shiver.

"Oh, no, Starsk. I'm okay writing under a false name and knowing just a few people will read it. But I could never really write something worth publishing in the real world." Hutch sounded scared to death.

Starsky sighed and stroked the worry lines that suddenly appeared on Hutch's brow.

"Okay, Babe. Forget it for now. Don't get your Hutchinson patented blush motor revved up." Starsky kissed his brow. 

"Hey, you're a little warm." Starsky took Hutch's arm and gently removed the bandage. He examined the bite.

"It itches." Hutch said lazily, enjoying Starsky's attention.

"Let's go to the kitchen. I'll take your temp, give you your meds and a new bandage. You're overdue." Starsky bounced off the bed and offered Hutch a hand up.

"Starsk?"

"Yeah, Baby?"

"I...I'll think about writing a novel. Maybe a love story about two men who happen to be cops." Hutch smiled shyly.

"Oh! No! My Dear, Hutch! What have I done? I've created an author!." Starsky cried, a hand dramatically brought to his brow.

.oOOo.

The theater was softly lit by the original gaslight fixtures carefully rewired to imitate the originals. The sounds of whispered conversations, soft bursts of laughter and muffled footsteps on red carpeted stairs, filled the full house.

"Front row center." said Starsky. "Boy, Hutch! These are great seats!" Hutch was lost in thought.

Starsky looked around happily munching on popcorn from the red and white box resting on his knee.

"Damn good popcorn, Hutch. Want some?" Starsky offered the box.

"Huh? Oh... No thanks, Starsk." said Hutch.

Starsky stopped chewing.

"You feelin' okay, Blondie? I knew I shouldn't a let ya come. You've got a fever."

"Starsk. It was only 99 and normal the second time you took it. The Doc said flu-like symptoms could last for a while. I'm fine, Starsk, relax and enjoy. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Starsky looked around and saw the security guard, Andy. He waved and smiled. Andy winked and nodded.

"That Andy is a nice guy." said Starsky.

"Wha?" said Hutch.

"The security guy? Andy? Hutch are you listenin'?"

"Uh, sure, yeah." said Hutch, obviously not listening.

Starsky shook his head, and dove into his box for more popcorn. 

"I like plays. I saw a Broadway play once. My Fair Lady. Man, Hutch when I think about Julie Andrews singin' 'I Could Have Danced All Night,' in that old fashioned nightie, I can just about come in my shorts. What a voice!"

"What did you say?" That finally got Hutch's attention.

"Broadway. Julie Andrews. Come in my shorts. 'I could have fucked all night.'"

"Starsky! Jeez! That's Julie Andrews you're talking about. Have some respect. You kiss your Mother with that mouth?"

"No, just you. You gonna tell me what you're thinkin' about or do you want me to sing you my version of 'Ah, Wouldn't It Be Loverly?'"

Hutch chuckled.

"Sorry, Starsk. I'm really excited about seeing this play. I've read it a few times, but actually seeing it performed is a thrill. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote the original play, but didn't really like how it turned out. So he let this famous actor William Gillette re-write it so it would appeal to Victorian audiences. Gillette was a big fan. He sent Sir Arthur a telegram asking if he could marry Holmes."

"What?" cried Starsky.

"Gillette wanted to end his play with Holmes kissing the heroine and asking her to marry him."

"Oh." said Starsky.

"Sir Arthur answered him saying, 'Marry him, murder him, or do anything you like to him!'"

"That's great, Hutch! Old Doyle was a funny guy. Nice of him to be generous with his characters like that."

"Yeah, it was. I liked to think he would of approved of my pastiches." said Hutch.

"I'm sure he would, Babe."

"Anyway, I was thinking of how supportive he was to Gillette. Gillette was the first to wear a deerstalker hat and smoke a curved pipe. He wanted everyone to be able hear him clearly when he spoke. No microphones back then. Sir Arthur would have been in the audience just like us. Sitting right here with us. Laughing and joking. Clapping for Gillette. Imagine it, Starsky!"

Starsky looked at his Partner. His eyes shone with an inner light from far away and long ago. His face faintly flushed with the excitement of having a long cherished dream come true.

"Don't have to imagine it. I can see it all in your eyes." said Starsky.

The lights began to fade and the audience settled down. Starsky watched Hutch instead of the stage.

The orchestra began to tune their instruments. Hutch's heart was pounding. Starsky discretely took his hand in the now darkened theater. Hutch entwined his fingers in Starsky's.

A gentle melody flowed from the orchestra pit. Then the song of a lone violin pierced the air. Sadly sweet notes filled the theater.

Hutch gasped quietly at the violin music. He let out a soft, "Oooooo." and squeezed Starsky's hand.

Starsky leaned in and whispered in Hutch's ear.

"Baby, if you come in your shorts when the curtain opens, I'll lend you my empty popcorn box to cover yourself with."

Starsky felt Hutch's body quake with silent laughter.

Hutch whispered back. "Thanks, Buddy. You're the best."

.oOOo.

'Sherlock Holmes' is a play in four acts. Act One introduces the bad guys and the sweet heroine, Alice. Alice was being held against her will by blackmailers. They held her and her elderly mother captive in their own home. Alice's dead sister was having an affair with an illustrious wealthy man and had kept a beribboned stack of love letters from said man. Alice secreted away the letters, wanting to keep her sister's memory unsoiled. The would-be blackmailers tortured and threatened poor Alice, but she would not give then the letters and betray her sister. A maid took pity on poor Alice and decided to go to Sherlock Holmes for help.

Starsky thought the plot was a hard to take. Alice was cute. Reminded him of Sweet Alice, the hooker he and Hutch liked. He amused himself thinking how he and Hutch would enter that house, maybe Hutch undercover, and the two of them would save the girl and her mother from the wimpy blackmailers. The play would be over by now.

Hutch was enthralled by everything before him. He recognized Sir Arthur's hand in the set design, the costumes and certain lines of dialog taken right from the canon. When Alice refused to give the location of the letters, the despicable villain grabbed her roughly. Hutch had a sudden memory of Ben Forrest and his goons. He felt the blood drain from his face. He shook his head to get rid of the image before it ruined the play for him, before Starsky noticed...

"Hutch?" Starsky whispered. "You okay?"

"Hush, Starsk. Holmes is coming." Hutch hoped that would distract his Partner.

On stage there was a loud knock on the door. Sherlock Holmes entered wearing a long tweed traveling coat and the infamous deerstalker hat.

Starsky was shocked when the sedate, somber audience erupted in cheers and applause. Some, like Hutch jumped out of their seats holding their hands high and clapping as hard as they could. A chant of "Holmes! Holmes!" split the air.

Starsky leaned back. "Crazy Sherlockians!" he chuckled. 

Hutch looked down at Starsky and smiled at him. A soft bright smile that warmed Starsky's heart.

Starsky smiled, and rising to stand by his Partner, joined in with the cheering crowd.

The actors on stage were frozen in time, happily waiting for the applause to die down. As the audience settled, Holmes made a great show of removing his coat and handing it to the sinister looking butler. The audience laughed when Holmes placed the deerstalker on the butler's bald head.

Holmes proceeded to deduce exactly what was going on in the house. He had arranged a fake fire, so that Alice would unwittingly reveal the whereabouts of the letters.

Holmes is quite taken with Alice's courage and beauty, assures her he will not take the letters from her against her will and will keep her safe from now on.

The curtains close for a few moments.

Starsky leans in and whispers in Hutch's ear.

"I thought Holmes didn't like the ladies. I thought Holmes & Watson were, you know, Partners? Who's this flaky chick?"

Hutch sighed. "I think it was just easier to have Holmes fall in love with a woman than to explain that he might have been asexual or even gay. Remember, being gay was against the law. People didn't want to see a gay man portrayed in public. It's my theory as to why Gillette wrote the play the way he did, to protect Sir Arthur from scandal."

"Aww, Hutch. Why do people have to judge other people. It don't hurt anybody to have more love in the world." said Starsky.

"I know, Babe." Hutch squeezed Starsky's hand.

"When's Watson gonna show up. I wanna see Watson & Holmes together. This is kinda borin' without Watson."

"Act Two, scene two. Be patient." 

Hutch watched as the curtain opened and Moriarty was seen pacing in his lair. Hutch couldn't help but shiver as a childhood memory resurfaced. He knew the look on Moriarty's face. It was the same look he saw on his Father's face. Hutch had to control the urge to run and hide. For a moment he felt like a vulnerable nine year old again. Hutch stole a glance at Starsky.

Starsky had been enjoying himself till he saw Moriarty. The events of the last week started to play in his mind. He felt like pulling Hutch out of there. Running with him far away from Moriarty, far away from anything that could harm him. He stole a glance at Hutch.

The Partners held each other's glances. Speaking volumes without saying a word. I need you... I'm here... I'll protect you... I've got your back... I'll die for you... I live for you... I love you. The silent words rebounded back and forth between them.

The sound of hissing and soft booing made the Partners look around them. The audience has begun to show their opinion of Moriarty and his dastardly plan to burn down 221 Baker Street, take possession of the letters and murder Holmes.

Starsky smiled at Hutch and they both joined in. Hutch's hissing sounding so much like a snake, that Starsky got creeped out. Starsky had to kick him in the shins to get him to stop. Hutch ended up laughing quietly into Starsky's shoulder.

In Act two, scene two, Billy the page ushered Watson in to see Holmes at Baker Street. Starsky and Hutch stood again as the audience showed their warm regards for Holmes' Partner. Starsky let loose with a whistle and Holmes & Watson broke character for just a second to smile at the two Detectives in the front row.

Watson & Holmes brought magic to the stage. Their chemistry seemed to make the ordinary stage lighting into firelight. Leaving the audience with a warm glow. Their witty banter was a Sherlockian's dream.

Holmes took a neat Morocco case to a table and opened it, producing a vial and a hypodermic needle. 

Starsky and several others gasped out loud as Holmes rolled up his shirtsleeve and injected himself in the arm.

Watson with disgust and concern in his voice asked, "Which is it today? Cocaine or morphine or..."

Hutch held his breath as he stared at the needle. He could imagine what it felt like..."

Starsky grabbed his arm. Hutch remembered to breathe.

Hutch took a deep breath and whispered to Starsky, trying to avoid the sorrow he saw in his eyes.

"I... I forgot this part. Hard to see it right in front of me like that. But don't worry, Starsk. Watson helps him give it up and they stay Partners for a long, long time." Hutch patted Starsky's hand.

Starsky smiled and loosened his grip on Hutch's arm. This play had his Hutch on an emotional roller coaster. Suddenly tired, he hoped the play would be over soon. Then he and Hutch could get a bite to eat and just be Hutch & Starsk for the rest of the night. He was really starting to appreciate the benefits of watching baseball as a pastime. 

Starsky shook his head slightly and mumbled. "Shootin' up on stage. Crazy freakin' Sherlockians."

On stage, Watson and Billy were tricked into leaving Holmes alone. Moriarty appeared. He threatened Holmes with destruction. Moriarty speaking of a notebook, went to reach inside his coat. Holmes suddenly produced a revolver from the pocket of his dressing gown. He aimed it at Moriarty.

"Look out! Take your hands away." cried Holmes.

Young Billy returns, his clothes torn, having fought off Moriarty's man.

Holmes, very happy to see the young page asks him to remove whatever Moriarty has hidden in his pocket.

Billy doesn't answer or move like he is supposed to. Moriarty pulls a gun from his inner coat pocket and aims it at Holmes.

Hutch turns to Starsky, "That's not right. Billy is supposed to put the gun on the table. Holmes removes the bullets without Moriarty knowing about it. It's a very important point."

Starsky stiffened. He had to stop himself from reacting to the two very realistic looking guns being held on the stage.

The audience starts to murmur.

The actors on the stage have stopped talking. Holmes glares at Billy. Trying desperately to think of some way to save the scene.

Holmes opens his mouth to ad lib a hopefully clever line, but Watson, who suddenly appears in the doorway, beats him to it.

"Moriarty! Put down the gun. It's not too late, you haven't hurt anyone yet." Watson positioned himself between Holmes and the gun. Watson whispers something to Holmes, and Holmes' eyes go wide with fear.

Moriarty chuckles. "True! Not yet. But I intend too, Watson. Move away from Holmes."

"No!" cried Watson. He glanced at Hutch.

Hutch was on his feet. Hands where Moriarty could see them.

"He's right, Moriarty." Hutch made his way towards the stage. "I'm Detective Sigerson. It's me you're angry with. You haven't hurt anyone..." Moriarty took a step closer to Watson and fired. Watson felt a hot searing pain as a bullet grazed his arm. He fell backwards into Holmes' arms. Holmes cradled him and guided him gently to the floor his head in Holmes' lap. 

"No, Watson! God, no! Say you're not hurt. Please! You can't be badly hurt. I could not stand it if you were!" Holmes took off his jacket and placed it against the bleeding wound.

Watson touched Holmes' cheek and smiled. "Just a scratch, Shirl. Anyway, it's worth a wound, worth many wounds to be able to see your heart like this."

Holmes held Watson close. He looked at Hutch pleadingly.

Moriarty aimed his gun at Hutch's heart. "There! Now I've hurt someone, Sigerson. Happy?"

Starsky's heart skipped a beat as he stood and watched the scene unfold before him. He tried to come up to speed and think of how to keep Hutch and the others safe. This was very real. They were all in big trouble.

The theater hummed with people talking about what was going on. When Hutch mentioned Sigerson, quite a few people gasped and laughed, like they got the joke. A few people even clapped. One man yelled out, "Good show, Sigerson!" The audience laughed and settled down to watch.

Andy, the security guard was not fooled. He knew Moriarty was under suspicion of the attempted murder of Starsky's Partner. He knew Moriarty did not have the antique bull dog revolver he used in this scene. He knew a real .32 Smith & Wesson when he saw it. Andy made his way to the lobby to call the police. Moriarty didn't notice him.

"Billy, get the two Detective's guns." said Moriarty.

Starsky & Hutch exchanged looks. They had to let Billy take their guns. The longer the audience thought it was all part of the play, the safer everyone would be. They couldn't risk the lives of Holmes, Watson and a theater full of innocent bystanders.

Billy took Hutch's gun, then Starsky's. He lifted the guns up so Moriarty could see them.

"This guy is crazy!" he whispered to Starsky. "I'm no murderer. I'm leaving." 

He discretely handed Starsky his gun back and ran for the lobby.

"Damn you! Billy!" yelled Moriarty.

Hutch had made it to the stage. He stepped slowly into the Baker Street set.

A faint sound of breaking glass was heard coming from the lobby.

"Andy!" thought Starsky. "We just need to stall."

Hutch had the same thought. He needed to get Moriarty talking.

Hutch looked at the man holding him at gunpoint. All the demons of his past were before him in human form. He felt cold and weak. Fear was twisting inside of him trying to gain control of his mind. He looked at Starsky. Starsky nodded. He looked back at Moriarty. Then he saw it. He wasn't Moriarty. Just a sick, confused man. Hutch knew what to do. He needed Sigerson to help him. Finally Ken Hutchinson and Ken Sigerson became one. 

"Professor!" Hutch spoke as loud and as clearly as he could. He wanted to keep the audience's attention. "I was wrong about Holmes. I'm sorry my book upset you. I'm writing a new book now. About you. I know the truth now. You've helped me see it." Hutch lifted his hands and an eyebrow.

Starsky spied Andy to his right. He was pointing with Hutch's Magnum to an old door on the side of the stage. It had been hidden by billowing velvet curtains. Starsky moved slowly towards the right. When he was close enough, Andy whispered that he had handcuffed Billy to the now broken popcorn machine, called the police and requested an ambulance.

Back on the Stage, Moriarty frowned. "You ruined Sherlock Holmes for me, Sigerson! He was pure, untouched by desire and emotion. He was above it all! He never would have succumbed to something as base and vile as love!"

"You are so right, Professor. You see things so clearly. In my new book, Moriarty sets things straight! He brings virtue and honor back to the cobblestone streets of London. Imagine it Professor! Moriarty before the sea coal fire at 221B Baker Street, contemplating a plan to free London from the evil only he sees. The evil eating away at civilization..."

Moriarty was getting caught up in Hutch's word pictures.

"I am the hero? Not the villain?"

"Oh, Yes! The hero! I wish I had seen it sooner! What a glorious story! 'The Triumphant Return Of Moriarty'!" cried Hutch.

The theater erupted with applause.

Moriarty looked out over the audience, confused. He lowered his gun. Hutch moved closer. Keeping eye contact. Reaching for the gun.

"Professor! Can't you hear it?" Hutch grabbed his wrist, holding Moriarty's trembling hand still in his firm grasp. The gun now pointing harmlessly at the floor. "All the applause, is for you!"

Starsky sprang through the door of 221B Baker Street, gun in hand. Andy entered behind him clutching Hutch's Magnum

"Give it up, Moriarty. It's over." said Starsky.

The audience cheered.

Moriarty let Hutch take the gun. Starsky grabbed Moriarty, pulling him away from Hutch and made quick work of handcuffing him.

Hutch plopped down in Holmes' favorite chair, exhausted.

"You okay? Sig?" asked Starsky. Hutch smiled and nodded.

"Sherl? How's Watson doin'?"

"He's fine and he's mine!" Holmes kissed Watson right on the lips. Watson's eyes went wide, then closed in pleasure.

The cheers and applause nearly brought the house down.

Starsky turned back to Moriarty.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

The rest was drowned out by the standing ovation.

Starsky grinned at the audience. He sat the dazed Moriarty in a chair, grabbed Hutch, faced front and pulled Hutch down into a low exaggerated bow.

Starsky whispered in Hutch's ear.

"Told ya I'd be the coolest guy in the whole theater, Sig!"

Hutch blushed beautifully.

.oOOo.

Nearly two hours later, Starsky & Hutch sat before the fireplace at 221B Baker Street. The silent stage now adorned with police crime scene tape. It didn't seem out of place, somehow. The now empty theater echoed with the sounds of cops securing the area and Dobey's authoritarian voice. Hutch was leaning back in the comfy chair, legs extended, arms folded on his lap. The deerstalker hat on his head, was pulled over his eyes. Soft snores were coming from his lips.

Starsky was holding a curved pipe, enjoying the feel of the fine mahogany stem and white Meerschaum bowl. He was contemplating his Hutch. His secret life as a Sherlockian was no secret anymore. Sig and Hutch were both his now. Starsky smiled. Starsky was proud that this creative semi-famous author chose to love plain old David Starsky. His pride in Hutch was always there, but now it was richer. Like his life with Hutch. Starsky thought, "I'm a very rich man."

Dobey entered the set, and stood before the snoozing Hutch.

"Is he okay?" Dobey's voice rumbled quietly.

"Yeah. Hasn't quite recovered. Needs some rest. Been hard on him. Had this secret life for a lotta years. Lotta ghosts to put to rest, ya know?" said Starsky.

Dobey understood, he didn't need details.

"Can't wait to read this report. Might be a best seller!" Dobey chuckled.

Hutch stirred. He pushed the deerstalker further back on his head and straightened with the appropriate moans and groans.

"Oh. Hi, Cap. Need anything?" Hutch yawned.

"No. We're done for the night. That actor, Watson? He was released. Just a scratch. That Holmes character took him home already. That young perp, is in lockup for the night. I told that security guard he did a good job, he should apply to the police academy. Seemed like he might. It's amazing no other civilians were hurt. You boys did a good job, too."

Starsky & Hutch exchanged smiles.

Dobey turned to leave.

"Oh! Almost forgot. Sigerson got a letter today at the station. One more nail for that nutcase's coffin." Dobey handed Hutch the letter and exited stage left.

Starsky came and sat on the arm of Hutch's chair, placing a supportive hand on Hutch's shoulder. Hutch leaned forward and examined the letter.

"Starsk! This isn't from Moriarty. It's from the BSI in New York!" Hutch tore open the envelope. He slowly rose. His eyes grew wide, the footlights made Hutch's eyes turn the bluest shade of blue Starsky had ever seen. Hutch's hands began to shake as he read.

"Hutch! What's wrong? What does it say, Baby?" Starsky stood and grabbed Hutch's arms. He looked like he might pass out.

"Starsk! The BSI! The Baker Street Irregulars! Th...They... I...I've been asked to join the BSI! Because of my book!" Hutch stared at Starsky. Hutch's face turned the pinkest pink Starsky had ever seen.

"That's great, Baby! That's the really geeky big deal Sherlockian guys, right? I am so proud of you! Always new you were the geekiest of all Partners! Now I can prove it!" exclaimed Starsky. 

Hutch was visibly shaken, almost in shock.

"Oh, I couldn't accept, Starsk! There's an induction dinner... in New York... next month! I... I would need to make an acceptance speech! No! I couldn't..."

"Sure you could! Can you bring a guest?"

Hutch scanned the letter.

"Yeah! You can!" Hutch started to smile.

"So, you take me with you and I'll watch your back. Like always. I'll make the speech for you if I have too. You're going."

"I'm going." Hutch said softly.

Hutch grabbed Starsky and spun him around. His face glowing with the light up Bay City smile.

"I'm going! I'm going. I'm an Irregular! WeeeHeee!"

Starsky laughed and held Hutch tight. He looked around. They were alone.

"Hey, Sky! Didn't you tell me this play ends in a kiss?" asked Starsky.

"Yeah, Holmes loves Alice, but doesn't think he's worthy. The line is..."

Hutch drew away from Starsky slightly. He knew the line by heart as it expressed exactly how he felt about Starsky's love. That he was unworthy, that he should leave before the love was destroyed. But he was Starsky's geek now, for better or for worse and couldn't ever say goodbye.

Hutch took Starsky in his arms and spoke the line with a ringing voice.

"I know that no such person as I should ever dream of being a part of your sweet life! It would be a crime for me to think of such a thing! There is every reason why I should say good-bye and farewell! There is every reason — "

Starsky places a hand on Hutch's cheek. "Crazy Sherlockians!" said Starsky. "I ain't never lettin' my geek say goodbye." 

Hutch sighed, then smiled.

"Then they Kiss?" asks Starsky.

"Yeah." whispers Hutch.

Then they Kiss.

Close curtain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I am truly blessed to have been invited to join the Starsky & Hutch community!
> 
> That means as much to me as being inducted into the BSI would. I love you guys!
> 
> It is my humble opinion that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the Father of Fanfiction. "Marry him, murder him, or do anything you like with him!" Thank you, Sir Arthur, for giving permission to William Gillette to be the first ever fanfiction writer!
> 
> NOTE: Recently a lost copy of the 1916 film version of "Sherlock Holmes" staring William Gillette was found in France. It was restored and opened in San Francisco just a short time ago. I'm looking forward to seeing it in the future.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this look into the world of Sherlockians!
> 
> LoVeLoVeLoVeLoVe---M.
> 
> NOTE on NOTE: The Hounds just informed me that Amazon will have the Gillette film on Blu-Ray in October 2015! Geek Out Party!


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